Mudbloods For Sale
by MemberOfDumbledoresArmy
Summary: What if the Golden Trio took too long to hunt down the horcruxes? What if Voldemort got a strong hold in the Wizard World and his ideals began to spread? What if owning mudbloods became the new trend? - AU Dramione.
1. Mudbloods For Sale

**A/N: I am apparently going story-crazy lately as a lot of ideas have been coming to me. I realized that it was a really popular theme for Hermione Granger to be some sort of slave to Draco Malfoy, and an idea came to me for this story. What if the Golden Trio took longer to defeat Voldemort? What if he got stronger and his ideals began to take hold? What if muggleborns spurred a sort of wizard-trafficking system?**

**This is an AU fanfic, in case you couldn't tell from the pairing, however, I will do my best to keep all of the characters in character. This is just an introductory chapter, so please let me know what you think; if you hate this story, let me know and I can scrap it. **

**Disclaimer: All characters, places, ideas, events, etc. are not mine. They come from the brilliant mind of JK Rowling.**

**WARNING: This story contains a little bit of violence, implied rape, slavery, and other sensitive topic issues. For mature audiences only. **

Hermione Granger stood up and stretched. It was almost the end of her watch. She, Harry, and Ron had been hunting horcruxes for almost an entire year; Harry's 18th birthday was only three weeks away. They had found and destroyed all of the horcruxes except two of them. The two objects that eluded them were the snake Nagini and something that belonged to either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor.

The sword of Gryffindor now lay in Harry's bed, with Harry sleeping soundly half on top of it, with one hand on the handle clutching it tightly. Ron had fallen asleep hugging his radio, which was actually blaring rather loudly, but Hermione didn't mind, the noise helped to keep her awake.

She glanced in at the two sleeping boys and smiled; she couldn't have asked for better friends. After they had barely escaped Gringotts, they had returned to hiding in the mundane British countryside, but that had been over two months ago.

They were confident in their abilities, and Ron was greatly heartened by the fact that they only had two left. Harry was sure that once Voldemort discovered they were hunting his horcruxes, they would have more information to go on. As it was, however, all they knew was that Voldemort was now in possession of the Elder Wand.

Hermione scowled. She felt foolish, even now, for not having believed in the child's tale of the Three Brothers. Harry never tired of saying 'I told you so!' Ron, on the other hand, had been too eager to keep Hermione happy after having abandoned them before. There was also the small issue of their unspoken feelings for each other. Hermione felt confident that before this war was over, Ron would make a move.

Just as she turned to go into the tent, a light flashed somewhere deep in the woods and caught her eye. It was a bluish silver glow coming from between the trees. The patronus moved, walking through the forest away from Hermione. She frowned at it and then had a thought; was it the doe? Harry and Ron both reported that someone with a doe patronus had helped them obtain the sword of Gryffindor, was this that same patronus trying to give them more help?

Feeling torn, she moved toward the entrance of the tent, but the patronus started walking away even faster. She couldn't have time to wake the boys. Keeping her eyes on the retreating glow, she clutched her wand tightly and tore off after it. She felt the air vibrate around her when she left the protective enchantments she had cast, but paid them no mind.

After running for nearly ten minutes, she finally caught up to, and burst into an open meadow. However, the patronus wasn't what she was expecting. It wasn't a doe at all, it was a donkey. Her heart sped up into overdrive and adrenaline pumped hot and fresh through her veins as she realized the horrible mistake she had made. This was not a friendly patronus.

Vicious laughter cut through the hair and no less than eight men entered the clearing from different sides, surrounding her. She battled them all, but eventually they managed to disarm her. Hermione screamed as ropes spun around her, forcing her to fall to the ground, landing on her shoulder hard.

"What do we have 'ere?" said a gruff voice from above her. She could smell his hot stinky breath as he got closer to her. His hand twisted into her hair and yanked. Again, she screamed. He whispered a spell and then grinned widely, revealing two missing teeth, and then said to his comrades, "She's a mudblood alright."

Realization dawned. A crude spell had been invented to detect magical ancestry. The spell he had whispered revealed to him that there was not a drop of magical blood anywhere in her family except for what she was born with. "Hair's a bit bushy," commented a big burly man with matted hair and a large scar over across his jaw.

"She's got a nice body though," said another as he eyed her up and down as if appraising her.

"Young, that's always a plus," added yet a different wizard.

"What do you reckon?" asked the one who still had a hold of her hair, "70 galleons?"

"Nah, double that at least. I'd bet my gold cauldron that she's a virgin."

"Are you, you feisty little bird?" the voice in her ear had dropped an octave and he sounded disgustedly excited.

She didn't reply, merely whimpered as one of them stepped forward to run a hand along the length of her body. "Don't touch me, you filthy Snatcher!" she yelled.

He made a 'tsk' sound and tilted her chin so that she was forced to look him in the eye, their noses so close they were almost touching, "Darling, you're going to wish I was a Snatcher."

Just over a mile away, Harry and Ron continued sleeping, the sound of the radio drowning out the distant shrieks of their best friend.

….

"Come along, Draco," said Lucius as they made their way into Diagon Alley, "I wish to get you a late graduation present. Now that we are back in the good graces of the Dark Lord, we are practically gods in this world."

Draco grunted in acknowledgement of his father's words, but dragged his feet slightly as he tried to keep up with the brisk pace. It was over. Everyone knew it. The Dark Lord had won, and there was no sign of Harry Potter. He hadn't been sighted in over two months, ever since he had escaped from the Gringotts.

Bellatrix hadn't told the Dark Lord that the possession he had placed in her care had been stolen. She hadn't been able to force herself to admit that she had failed him, so instead she had remained silent and hoped every day that he would not ask her to retrieve his precious item from her vault.

"Ah, here we are, this way," said Lucius with a snap of his fingers toward Draco. Draco followed without question and very dimly noted the creaking wooden sign that read, '_Mudbloods for sale '_

They went through a few dark alleys, down a set of stone steps and finally arrived in a dimly lit room with a dirt floor. Draco was disgusted. This was the place his father had taken him to buy him a graduation present? Sneering at the place, he turned and asked, "What are we here for, Father?"

"I think it's time that you have a servant of your own."

"You're buying me a house elf?"

"Don't be thick. The new trend is mudblood slavery, Draco, surely you know that? Your friend, Zabini, he has one, and Goyle's thinking of buying one for his son as well." Draco looked around and realized that the other people in the place were not fellow shoppers, but the merchandise. He felt sick.

"The males," said the salesman motioning toward a group of five boys tied together by their waists, "are for manual labor. The females," he flicked a thumb toward a group of four girls, seated on the floor with their hands shackled, "are for sexual services."

Draco's stomach churned. He had long ago accepted that his father was disgusting, but this was crossing a line. His father had officially gone off the deep end. He was acting like these weren't people, like they were animals! But Draco knew better. Draco knew that muggles and muggle borns and half-bloods were _humans_.

"We are in the market for a female," said Lucius silkily. The salesman nodded with a wicked grin and ushered the two Malfoy's forward to get a closer look.

"Any of them to your liking?"

"Father, I don't want one," said Draco at once, not even looking at the selection before him.

"It's not an option, Draco. The Dark Lord himself suggested this as an appropriate gift for you. He is grateful for your service and compliance with his wishes."

"Surely he doesn't want me having sex with a mudblood," said Draco at once.

"She will not be just for sex, Draco, I'm sure she will do anything you request, because she is a slave. Cook, clean, anything else you want one. Am I correct?" he asked of the salesman.

"Quite right," the stout man quickly agreed, "Powerful enchantments have been placed on all of them."

"What sort of enchantments?" asked Draco dryly.

"Well, for starters, if they touch a wand it burns their hands. So you won't have to worry about leaving your wand out for them to find. Then, they have to obey your every command-"

"Like a house elf?"

"No. House elves can disobey, can't they?" said the man, "these mudbloods can't. Magic binds them to your service. They won't punish themselves like house elves because they can't disobey like house elves can. They either do what you ask or die trying." Lucius and the man laughed, but Draco blanched.

"What else?" asked Lucius greedily.

"They have a form of Trace on them; if you lose them somewhere, you can find them right quick. Last, but not least, they are confined to your place of dwelling unless you command them to go out. For instance, if you told them to go to the store, they could go. But if you didn't tell them to leave, they can't."

"Impressive," said Lucius. Draco gave a noncommittal jerk of his head. "You don't seem very excited about this."

"It's just that," he paused, unsure of how to get out of his horrid deal, "no girl will want to marry me, will she, knowing that I have a mudblood on the side?"

The elder Malfoy scoffed at his son's concerns, "If anything, a proper pureblood girl will be proud of you. Owning a mudblood will soon be a sign of status, wealth, and power. The Ministry no longer cares about catching them, but simply owning them. The Minister of Magic himself owns two males who take care of his home."

Knowing that he had no other choice if the Dark Lord requested it, Draco looked over the girls. None of them particularly stood out to him. They all looked scared and meager and they made bile rise in his throat. They acted like he was a predator and they were the prey that were unable to escape. Looking at them made him feel like a monster. He couldn't bare to own one of them.

"Do you have any others?" he asked.

"Just two others," the man said as he scratched the scruff on his chin, "but they're pricey."

"Why?" asked Lucius. Expensive to Lucius automatically meant that something was better quality.

"They're virgins," said the man with a grin.

"Let us see them," Lucius followed the man into a side room in which there were two jail cells. In one, a blonde girl was weeping loudly. In the second cell, however, Draco's hope lifted as he realize that this girl was not making any sounds of fear or despair. Bushy hair covered her face so he couldn't see her properly, but it was enough. He knew that girl.

Hermione Granger sat in the cell with her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. She heard men enter and steeled herself. Several men had come in to look at her already, but had chosen other girls instead. For the first time in her life, she was thankful for her unruly hair, as it covered her beautiful face and made her appear to be less attractive than she really was.

"What do you think, Draco?" at the sound of that voice, at the mention of that name, her head snapped up. She locked eyes with Draco and they had a silent communication. With a start, he realized that these men did not know who she was. To them, she was just a number. They had no idea that the Dark Lord would kill to have this girl. They had no idea that this girl had information on Harry Potter.

After brief consideration he said swiftly, "I'll have this one, Father."

"Excellent!" Lucius had not recognized the girl, but if she was the one his son had chosen, then she was the one he would get. Lucius wandered off with salesman to discuss the price, and Draco approached the bars as Hermione glared at him.

"I bet you never thought it would come to this, eh, Granger?" he couldn't help it. Little miss perfect Hermione Granger was at his mercy and a part of him reveled in this. Another part of him was disgusted that side of him.

"Malfoy," said Hermione sternly, with determination, "don't say my name. If you mention to anyone who I am, I swear to Merlin I will torture you until not even your own mother would be able to recognize you."

"Your secret is safe with me, Mudblood," he said just as the two men came back into the room.

The salesman said a few enchantments, binding Hermione to Draco's service and then opened her cell. She had a single rope tied around her waist that was cursed to burn her if it touched any inch of her skin.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Malfoy," he nodded to Draco and handed him the end of the rope. "Don't forget to recommend my humble shop to your friends. Best mudbloods London has to offer!"

"We shall," said Lucius with a polite nod. The two Malfoys strode out of the shop, through Diagon Alley to the Leaky Cauldron. Once safely inside, Lucius said to his son, "I'll come by your flat sometime within the next few days to discuss business and check on how you're handling her," he was still talking about Hermione as if she were an animal, "until then, have fun." With those departing words, Lucius Malfoy apparated back to his Manor.

Draco began striding into muggle London, tugging Hermione along by the rope around her waist. He paused briefly to put a Disillusionment Charm on her and then kept going. They weaved in and out of streets and finally came to a wizarding apartment complex.

He hadn't spoken a word to her the entire time, and she was confused by that. What was he thinking? Why had he chosen her? She felt like she knew the answer. After all, he was Draco fucking Malfoy. He wanted to humiliate her. The Trader had told the Malfoys that she was a virgin, and Draco with his twisted upbringing probably wanted to rub it in her face that he controlled her in every possible way. He would want to put her in her place.

"Come along then, Granger," he snapped as she paused before getting in the lift. Unable to disobey him, she found her feet moving of their own accord. She stepped into the lift and it went up to the seventh floor.


	2. Hermione or Horcruxes

**A/N: Don't worry, not all of my chapters will be this short. Usually the chapters about Ron and Harry will be shorter than the ones that are following Hermione. I wanted to post this chapter now because I'm sure you're all anxious to see what's going on in Draco's flat, and it might be a couple of days until I update again.**

**Disclaimer: All characters, ideas, plot, events, etc. are not mine. They belong to the brilliantly talented JK Rowling. **

…**..**

Harry Potter woke up with a yawn and looked around. He frowned when he realized that sunlight was streaming into the tent; why hadn't Hermione woken him to take her shift? Harry chuckled, assuming that Ron had offered to take the shift instead as he was still trying to impress her.

When he rolled over, however, and saw that Ron was sleeping with his radio on, just as he'd fallen asleep, Harry's frown returned. Had Hermione fallen asleep? Harry pulled the blanket off of him and jumped down from his bunk. Normally Hermione slept below him, but her bed was empty. It was a warm summer day, and the night had been comfortable.

Barefoot, he stepped outside and looked around, but Hermione wasn't anywhere to be seen. "Ron!" Harry screamed. He ran back into the tent and frantically pulled at Ron.

"What's goin' on?" Ron sounded scared and disoriented. He jumped lithely out of bed and his wand was at the ready immediately.

"Hermione's gone."

"What?" Ron nearly dropped his wand. "She's not in her bed? She's not outside?"

"No! I'm telling you, she's gone!"

"She's not gone!" argued Ron hotly, "That's impossible!"

"Then where is she?" Even though they were not mad at each other, they were both screaming at the tops of their lungs.

"Maybe she went to get food!"

Harry paused. Yes, perhaps she had gone to get food. There was a farm not too far from their small camp and Hermione was good at cooking eggs with magic. "Why didn't she wake either of us after her shift ended then? Ron, I think something is really wrong."

"Let's just calm down and look for her," said Ron wisely. Harry nodded and stared at his friend in astonishment. Since when had Ron become the calm headed one? Since when was Ron able to reign in his emotions and think clearly? He really had matured over the past year.

Together, they packed up the tent. "Maybe," said Ron, "she left and couldn't find us again because of the enchantments." Harry highly doubted this theory. Hermione wouldn't be that foolish. But by that point, he was willing to try anything. They took down the protective enchantments and then headed toward the farm.

"I don't see her," said Harry after searching the barn and the small field.

"Bloody hell," Ron collapsed onto the ground, his head in his hands. "We have to find her."

"We will," said Harry, courage taking root in his heart, lighting a fire deep within him once again. Finally, after months of nothing, they had a goal and a purpose. They had something to look for and something to hope for.

They trekked back to their campsite and decided to start from there. "Okay, let's think about this logically," said Harry.

"That's not exactly our strong point, mate," in normal circumstances, that would have been a humorous statement, but Ron said it so gravely that Harry couldn't help but to feel somewhat doomed. "Harry, you don't think…" Ron trailed off, unable to finish his own thought.

"What? That she left us voluntarily?" Harry let out a loud puff of air. _Would_ Hermione have done that? "No, Ron, I don't think so."

"She can't have," Ron agreed, refuting his own suggestion, "she wouldn't have anywhere to go except abroad, and Hermione would never leave us, but then, what else could have happened?"

"Well what do we know? We know that Hermione went outside to keep watch at midnight last night. Then I woke up at half eight this morning. There was no sign of a struggle, and neither of us heard anything. With all of the protection we had around, nobody should have been able to get to us."

"Which means," continued Ron, "that she must have left the safety of our camp. But why? And where would she have gone?"

"If Hermione were to get into trouble, she would have left us some sort of clue. We just have to find it." Bleakly, they began to search, slowly spreading farther and farther out from their starting point. "Ron! Over here!"

He was there in an instant. They were staring at a small footprint. "Do you think it's Hermione's?" asked Ron.

Harry shrugged, "I can't think of anyone else's it would be out here in the middle of nowhere. Come on, it looks like she was headed this way," they walked in silence in the same direction the foot print pointed.

Eventually, they burst through the thicket into a clearing. "Harry," Ron's voice came out strangled and high, "Harry, look!" There were several other sets of footprints. All much larger than the small one they had found closer to their camp.

Toward the middle of the clearing there appeared to have been a scuffle. The stiff grass was bent as if a body had lain there, and footprints over lapped each other. "Oh no," said Harry in a breathy gasp. There, in the grass, he saw it.

Harry froze. He couldn't bring himself to bend down and pick it up. Ron, however, squatted and with a shaking hand lifted the thin golden chain. It was Hermione's necklace; the one trinket she allowed herself to have as a memory of her parents who had given it to her at the end of their sixth year at Hogwarts.

Ron inspected it, trying fiercely to push his emotions aside and use cool logic, the way Hermione did, and he surprised himself, "The clasp," he said, "it isn't broken. She took this off and left it here on purpose. She wanted us to find this."

"But why?" Harry was surprised to hear how thick his voice sounded.

"So that we would know she didn't leave by her own choice. It looks like Snatchers got her."

"No!" Harry twisted his fists in his hair and tugged hard. Hermione was close to him. If they caught Hermione Granger, they would torture her mercilessly. She would face so much worse than a cell in Azkaban. She would face much worse than death.

"Where would they have taken her?" asked Ron, "Malfoy Manor?"

"Hermione is smart," said Harry hopefully, "maybe they didn't recognize her?" he sounded desperate, grasping for straws.

"Okay, so let's say, for argument's sake, that they didn't realize who she was. Let's say she lied about her name or they were unsure of her identity. The first stop would have been…"

"The Ministry."

"Fuck!"

"She could be having a trial as we speak. Or maybe she's on her way to Azkaban. So now we know that she was Snatched," said Harry, not knowing how wrong he was, "we're going to assume that they don't know her identity. She is either in Azkaban or at the Ministry."

"Bloody hell, Harry, we have to go there!" Ron felt like he was in Malfoy Manor all over again. The panic seeping through his veins, the horrors going through his mind, the pain that Hermione was in trouble and he couldn't help her. That pain was the worst of all. It made him short of breath and he felt like he was going to go insane if he didn't ensure her safety immediately.

"Ron," sensing a breakdown coming on, Harry grabbed his friend by the shoulders and shook him hard, "We can't panic! We need to think about this, we need to have a plan, and most importantly, we have a very big decision to make."

"Right," said Ron, thinking of the big decision, "where do we look first; the Ministry or Azkaban?"

"No," Harry corrected, "do we go after Hermione or do we go after Horcruxes? It will take us weeks, maybe months, to get anywhere near the Ministry or Azkaban. If we can find the last Horcrux, kill it and confront You-Know-Who, we may be able to save Hermione and defeat You-Know-Who at the same time."

Ron shook his head, "That's too risky. We don't even know where it is!"

"I still think it's at Hogwarts! Now that it's summer, the school won't have as much protection surrounding it as normal and we have a good chance getting in and finding it."

"No. Harry, I know how important this is, trust me, I do. You-Know-Who is killing people every day, but this is Hermione. If one of us went missing she wouldn't hesitate for a second."

Harry thought about it for a moment and realized that Ron was right. There are things more important than destiny. After all, wasn't one of Dumbledore's most important lessons to Harry that he was in control of his own destiny? Hermione was more important than hunting Horcruxes. She had saved their lives more times than he could count, and they wouldn't let her down now.

"Alright," said Harry once they were agreed, "let's go to London. We need to get a close look at the Ministry."

"Merlin's pants, this is like finding that blasted locket all over again, isn't it?"

"Only this time, something much more important is at stake," said Harry.

"For Hermione," said Ron as he grabbed Harry's hand.

Harry closed his eyes, pictured muggle London and whispered quietly into the rustling wind, "For Hermione," before they spun on the spot and disapparated.


	3. Naming Your Mudblood

**A/N: Yay chapter three! Again, this is a bit shorter than my normal chapter length, but I debated and decided that it was better to have quick updates with shorter chapters as opposed to long waits between updates and longer chapters. We'll see how this goes!**

**WARNING: Sensitive topic issue in this chapter.**

…**..**

Hermione Granger was shocked when she entered the apartment. It was nothing like she had imagined. Everything inside was relaxing, warm, neutral colors. There were lots of tans and browns; nothing black, nothing silver. There was a long sofa in the middle of a tastefully decorated sitting room, along with one armchair on either side of the couch. All of the floors were wooden, but there was a large thick rug in the sitting room on which a glass coffee table sat.

There was a large fireplace, and the picture over top of the fireplace was a portrait of Draco. Hermione barely managed to not roll her eyes. Other decorations in the room were simply artistic touches; nothing that looked sentimental, and certainly no family photos. She could see a kitchen off to the right that looked to be decorated in shades of blue. Behind the sofa, a hallway led off toward what Hermione assumed must be the bedrooms and lavatory.

The moment they entered his apartment, he turned to her and undid the rope from around her waist. "Rule number one," he began without preamble, "you're not allowed to touch my wand or use it in any way for anything. I know that bloke said wands will burn your skin, but you're an intelligent woman, Granger, and I know you'd be able to find a way around that inconvenience, so I'm stopping it before it happens. No. Using. My. Wand."

"Why are you giving me rules? You've had your fun, Malfoy, now let me go."

Draco chuckled, shook his head and said, "You don't get it, do you? My father _bought_ you. As far as wizards are concerned, you belong to me." Hermione could not believe that this was happening. She couldn't believe that things in the wizard world had actually gotten this bad.

"You're really going to force me to stay here?" she cried.

"I don't have a choice," Draco sounded just as angry about this arrangement as she did, "you can't leave this apartment unless I command you to, even then there's a Trace on you, not to mention my father knows that I have you. Put that all together and you'll realize that it's impossible for me to let you go."

"Then why did you buy me? There were other, prettier girls and if you just wanted someone to boss around and have sex with, they would have been better options."

"I did it for you, you selfish, stuck-up, know-it-all, witch!" Hermione froze. He hadn't called her a 'mublood' or 'Granger' or even 'woman,' but a witch. Not realizing his own word choice, he continued to rant, "Well, okay, I did it partially for myself, but can you blame me? I was _forced _to own you just as much as you were _forced_ to be owned. All of those other bints were crying and shaking in fear, and you weren't. I chose you."

"Listen, Malfoy, let's not play dumb here, alright? I need to get back to Harry and Ron-"

Draco interrupted her with a snort, "Yes, because everyone knows that without you, Potty and Weasel wouldn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of surviving," the lack of sarcasm took Hermione by surprise. If she didn't know better, it would almost sound like Draco Malfoy respected her. However, she did know better than that and wasn't fooled.

"You need to lift these blasted enchantments," she said between gritted teeth, "and let me go."

"No."

"Malfoy! I swear to Merlin! This is important, you egotistical prat!"

"How did you even manage to get yourself caught, Granger? Aren't you supposed to be intelligent?" ah, there was the patronizing tone she'd been waiting for.

"That's none of your bloody business," she poked him in the chest.

"Actually, it is my business, love, so I _command _you to tell me how you got caught."

Before she even registered what was happening, a strange tingle sizzled up her spine; the effect of his command and her mouth opened and she told him the whole story. Starting with how she was keeping watch and ending when the Traders started torturing her.

"They used _Sectumsempra_?" he asked. She nodded. There was a brief pause where he looked her up and down. Self consciously she fidgeted from foot to foot and crossed her arms over her chest, "Take off that stupid dress, Granger," he snapped his fingers for emphasis.

"No!" she cried, but her body was obeying. Her fingers found the hem of the plain white cotton dress, which reached her knees, and lifted it up and over her head, dropping it on the floor. Tears were filling her eyes; so this was it. Draco was finally going to use her for what he bought her for.

She stood before him wearing nothing except the bra and panties she had had on when she was abducted; a black lacey bra that she had been hoping Ron might 'accidentally' see while she was getting changed, and a matching pair of boy cut panties. Draco's eyes skimmed over the undergarments without emotion, but then stopped on the smooth planes of her midsection.

"Ah, so now I see why you kept wincing whenever I tugged hard on that blasted rope," said Draco as he saw all of the deep gashes in her sides and stomach. The Traders had healed them just enough so that she wouldn't die, but left them there otherwise; they wanted to leave her scarred.

He took a step toward her and she backed up. Frustrated, he took two quick steps, wrapped an arm around her and lifted her up easily. He tossed her onto the couch and she screamed. "For the love of Merlin, _shut up, Granger_!"

She had no choice but to obey. The exhaustion from the past 24 hours, from the past year really, was catching up to her. Hermione's eyelids began to flutter and Draco's face above hers was coming in and out of focus. Just before she slipped into an unconscious state, she thought '_At least I won't have to be awake for this…_'

Draco froze. Hermione had fainted. Sighing, he stretched her almost naked body along the length of the couch. He would be lying if he said she wasn't attractive. Even with that rat's nest she called hair, there was no denying that she was beautiful. Her body was thinner than it had been at Hogwarts, and Draco found himself worried by this change. He could almost see her bones. Although, his eyes skimmed over the flimsy bra she wore, her breasts looked larger than he remembered them.

Part of him ached to touch her there, but that had never been his plan. He may be a Death Eater, an attempted murderer, just an all around evil kind of guy, but he was not a rapist. The gashes from the spells that had hit her were starting to leave scars, but he was sure in his abilities to heal her. His long fingers skimmed up and down her body, taking inventory of every wound.

Satisfied that he knew what to do, he took his wand and began uttering a complex series of spells that sounded almost like a song. With satisfaction, he watched as every trace of injury disappeared from her body, leaving it in perfection. As soon as he was done, he used his wand to clothe her in plain red cotton pajama pants and a plain red long sleeved shirt.

He pulled a throw over her, to keep her from getting cold, and then went down the hallway into his study. The apartment was slightly bigger than it looked; it had two bedrooms, three bathrooms (one in each bedroom, and one for guests), a spacious kitchen, a nice sized sitting room, and a small private study. Draco took the time to open the pamphlet he had previously been ignoring.

It was a guide to 'owning a mudblood.' The first section was titled, "Naming Your Mudblood."

_Choosing a name for the newest edition to your household is of the utmost importance. It has to be a name which you will not be embarrassed to use in front of guests or strangers. Do not let your mudblood choose his or her own name. They belong to you now, and they need to get used to that. Anything you want to call them is acceptable. He or she will be bound to respond to their given name, just as they are bound to respond to your commands. Once you choose a name, you will not be able to change it, so choose wisely. As soon as you're sure about the name you picked, recite the incantation below inserting the name of your choice. Congratulations! You have just named your mudblood._

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't name her "Hermione," obviously. For one, he couldn't bare to hear himself call her that, and for two, it would simply be foolish of him to call her by her real name. "Granger" was also out of the question for the same reason. He couldn't simply call her "Slave" or "Mudblood," because they were rather derogatory terms, but at the same time, he had to give her a name that sounded like something a pompous pureblood would call their servent.

This was quite the conundrum. Unsure of what to do, he pushed the pamphlet aside for now and pulled out some textbooks instead. Despite the unexpected events of the day, he still had schoolwork to do.

When Hermione Granger woke up, the first thing she thought was '_It was a dream. Just a dream. Even now, can't you feel the blanket around you? Ron must have known you were getting cold. And the heat coming from that direction must be the fire that Harry likes to keep going all night._'

But when she opened her eyes, her worst fears slammed into her; it hadn't been a dream. The fireplace in front of her was ablaze with flames, but there was no other light in the room, which must mean that night had fallen. She sat up quickly, grabbing her pounding head. Draco had dressed her in rather modest pajamas and she was thankful for that.

Then she remembered what had been going on when she had fainted. She hugged her knees into her chest and began to cry. "Ah, yes," said Draco as he came into the room carrying a plate of food and a glass of wine, "I thought I heard the dulcet tones of your weeping. Here, Granger, have something to eat," he set the plate and glass down on the coffee table before her.

"You are a bastard," she hissed, not even looking at the food.

"Excuse me?"

"How could you do that to me?"

"Granger, listen, I didn't-"

"I know you didn't ask to be in this situation! But you still used it to your advantage anyway, you slimy, foul, disgusting, pig!"

"I didn't rape you."

"You….didn't?"

"No! Heavens, Granger, I just wanted to heal your injuries! You were the one who jumped to those crazy conclusions when I told you to take your dress off. I mean, honestly, do you really think I would have sex with you?" he made a face.

Relief surged through her and she snatched up the plate and began to eat. She hadn't had food this good, food with such sustenance, in months. This meager meal of slightly burned baked chicken, spaghetti noodles, a dinner roll and small helping of potatoes was like a feast to her famished state.

Once she was finished, she turned to him and said quite surely, "Harry and Ron will find me, you know. The moment they realized I was gone, I bet they began searching for me. They'll come for me."

"Yes, I'm sure the first place they will look for you is my flat," said Draco with sarcasm.

Hermione scowled, "I didn't say they would find me immediately. But they will, and when they do, will you let me go with them?"

"I can't," he implored, "You don't understand! The Dark Lord himself told my father to buy me a mudblood! If I simply let you go, he could just use the Trace on you to track you down and then he'd find Potter and Weasley with you. Is that what you want?"

"Can't you just take the Trace off of me?"

"I wish I could, believe me, but it's impossible. The only person who can take it off is the person who did it, and I'm not even sure who that is. It probably wasn't the man who sold you. It might have been one of the blokes who caught you, but I would have no idea how or where to find them."

"So, You-Know-Who can track me?" she asked in a whisper.

"Yes!" Draco snapped. Finally, she was starting to understand! Then she burst into even harder sobs. "Bloody fucking hell!" Careful to phrase his words correctly, he said, "You should really stop crying. I'm not going to force you to, but I would like for you to."

At the uncharacteristic gentleness of his tone, Hermione glanced up through her fingers and asked, "Why?"

"Why don't I want you to cry? Because I don't know what to do with a fucking crying girl!"

"I meant, why won't you command me to? You can, you know," she reminded him with a sniffle.

"I'm not going to take away your free will unless I have to," he snapped, "whether the Ministry agrees with me or not, you _are _a witch and you deserve to have your own rights."

She gaped at him for a moment, waiting for him to tack on something like '_Just kidding!_' or '_Gotcha!_' but when he didn't, she smiled at him timidly and did her best to hold back any further tears. "Now," he said briskly, as if they were getting down to some important business, "We need to give you a name."

"I have a name."

"We can't use your real name," he snapped.

"You can call me Jean, that's my middle name," she suggested after thinking for a moment.

"No," he shook his head, "that's not something a pureblood would name a servant."

"Then what would be an appropriate name?"

"Something that would be demeaning toward you but not embarrassing toward me." Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously at his words. How dare he want to give her a name that would be demeaning. Was it not bad enough that she was bound to him? Speaking of which, did this enchantment last forever?

"Stop looking me like that. I swear, you're like some feisty little kitten. Some lioness you are," he snorted, "all 'meow' and no bite."

"That's it! Draco, you're a genius!"

"What? What did I say?"

"Kitten. It's demeaning toward me, isn't it? Since a kitten is an animal, but it would not embarrass you to call me 'Kitten' since it's close to 'Kitty,' which is an actual name. Most importantly, I would not view it as demeaning toward me since a cat is a just a small lion, and I am a Gryffindor."

"You want me to call you 'Kitten'?" he burst into unashamed laughter.

"Do you have a better idea?" Her cheeks were flushed red from blushing.

Still chuckling, he said, "I suppose not. Alright then, _Accio wand!_" his wand flew to him from his study, and he summoned the pamphlet as well. After reciting the correct incantation, Hermione felt that it had worked. Just like when he commanded her to do something, she felt the tingly sensation up and down her spine. Even more proof that she no longer belonged to herself.

"Kitten!" he said commandingly. Involuntarily, her head snapped up in his direction and he smirked, "Looks like it worked." She could only nod. How had her life come to this? "Follow me," he said and stood. Hermione followed. "This is your bedroom," he flicked his wand and torches on the walls were lit.

"Thank you," she said meagerly.

"Not like I have a choice," he grumbled. "You have your own loo, right through there," he motioned to where a door stood ajar on the other side of the bedroom, "and a closet, though I don't suppose you have any clothes yet," he sighed.

Hermione stared around the pale yellow room for a few moments before saying quietly, "Goodnight, Malfoy."

"Goodnight, Kitten," with laughter in his voice, he shut the door, leaving her alone. Hermione walked over to the small twin-sized bed with the brass headboard and laid down on it. She curled up on her side and just laid there wide awake for what felt like hours.

The room was modestly decorated. The only items of furniture were the bed and a long dresser that had a mirror. Hermione debated on taking a shower but then had a better idea. What would happen if Draco wasn't around? Not just out of the apartment, but out of the _world_?

Hermione knew that she had to get back to Harry and Ron. Defeating Voldemort was the most important thing she could be focusing on. It was for the wellbeing of the entire world population for her to get back to her friends. With them looking for her, they weren't looking for Horcruxes, and they were losing precious time.

Hermione slipped out of her bedroom, tiptoed through the sitting room and entered the kitchen. She pulled open a few drawers at random before finding a large cutting knife. Unable to use a wand, she could still use a muggle weapon. After all, it had been wizards who had imprisoned her, how could they stop to think that she might resort to use muggle tactics?

Creeping quietly to his bedroom, she found the door cracked open. She pushed it all the way open and stepped inside. Draco Malfoy was fast asleep, lying on his back, his head tilted to the side, his mouth open. The blanket was tangled around his waist and he wasn't wearing a shirt. His Dark Mark was practically glowing it was so black against his pale forearm. Hermione steeled herself, walked over, took the handle of the knife in both hands, raised it high over Draco's body and started to bring it down.

But a thought entered her mind that stopped her from driving the blade home. Draco had been kind to her. She knew that if he hadn't bought her, she would currently be underneath of some sweaty sex-driven pureblood wizard who would use for her the services she could offer. Draco had placed himself in a terrible situation to keep her safe, in a twisted way. She knew that it would be considered an extreme betrayal of Draco to not tell Voldemort that he had possession of Hermione Granger.

Yet he was enduring that for her. With a shake of her head, Hermione returned the knife to the kitchen and then crawled into her small twin-sized bed. Tomorrow, she would think of more ways to escape. Tomorrow, she would put her brain to some real use. Tomorrow, she would get out of this place. But for tonight, she was content knowing that Draco Malfoy was keeping her safe.


	4. Ways to Escape

**A/N: I am hoping to write a couple more chapters following Hermione before doing an aside chapter showing Harry and Ron. How do you think it's going so far? It's hard to write Draco because you don't see him a lot in the main Harry Potter books, and when you do, he's always a bit different (arrogant, cowardly, and immature in the first two books; pompous and foul in books three, four, and five; scared, alone, and vulnerable in books six and seven) so I tried to combine all of those traits along with a few that I assume he has. If you have any suggestions, let me know!**

**WARNING: Sensitive topic issue in this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: All characters, plots, ideas, events, etc. are not mine. They belong to the brilliant mind of JK Rowling.**

…**.**

Draco Malfoy woke up at six in the morning to screaming. Terrible, heart wrenching, horrifying screaming. He leapt up, grabbed his wand and ran across the hall to Hermione's room. Not wanting to pause to even open the door, he snapped his wand and the door busted open. Nobody was in the room except for Hermione. She was screaming and writhing on the bed, her hands clutching the sheet. "No!" she cried.

"Granger!" Malfoy called, but she didn't respond.

"Stop! Please! It's fake! The sword is a fake!" Draco's eyes widened. She was reliving the scene that had taken place in his home a few months earlier in her nightmares. No wonder she was screaming so terribly. In her unconscious state, Bellatrix Lestrange was torturing her mercilessly. She began flopping around violently on the bed, as if she had been hit by a Cruciatus Curse.

Afraid she might fling herself off of the bed, Draco lunged at her, pinning her body to the mattress with his own. She writhed beneath him, and slowly her screams turned into moans. There was a brief moment in which she let out a low moan, both of them breathing heavily, when Draco felt oddly turned on. Then he remembered who he was with and said clearly, "Wake up, Granger."

Hermione gasped suddenly and her eyes flew wide open, focused on something that Draco couldn't see. She closed her eyes tight, silently counted to ten, opened her eyes again and sagged against his hold with relief. "Just a nightmare," she said to herself.

"That was one hell of a nightmare, Granger. Merlin, I thought you were going to kill yourself the way you were flailing about! Do you do that every night?"

"N-no."

"Why the stutter? Are you lying? Tell me how often you have nightmares like that."

Scowling all the while, she replied, "It only happens when I don't feel safe or secure while I'm sleeping. For example, there was one night a couple of weeks ago when I got separated from Harry and Ron. It happened then. Also that one night when we were camping by this particularly dense area of forest, and I was worried about wild animals."

"I see," Draco frowned, "so you don't feel very safe here?"

She glared maliciously, "Of course I don't bloody feel safe here! You're a Death Eater, Malfoy, and I'm number two on You-Know-Who's 'most wanted' list. You could turn me into him in the blink of an eye. Speaking of which, why haven't you turned me in?"

Draco pushed himself off of her, as they were still in a rather awkward position and snapped angrily, "I don't need to explain myself to you, Mudblood." Without another word, he strode out of the room.

Hermione sat there, slightly stunned, and laid back down. What time was it anyway? There wasn't a clock in her room. Was that sunlight pouring in through the blinds of the window? Groaning, she pulled the blanket over her head. That was until music started blaring through the apartment.

"_Jump on my broom, I'll take you for a flight, Baby we can get a room, things with you feel so right…_" Hermione wanted to _Avada Kedavra_ herself. Seriously? Draco Malfoy was listening to this rubbish this early in the morning? She heard noises coming from the kitchen; drawers slamming, metal clanging together, and she grudgingly got up to find out what was going on.

Still shirtless, Draco Malfoy stood in front of the stove, putting a tea kettle on. He had his back to Hermione as he pulled out a frying pan and cracked a couple of eggs into it. "Sunny side up, okay, Granger?"

She jumped; how had he known she was right behind him? "Sunny side up is fine."

"No, I meant that's how I like my eggs," he turned toward her, thrust a spatula into her hand and said, "I'm going to take a shower, I want those hot on my plate with a side of toast when I come out. Also, if my toast is burnt, I won't be happy."

Wanting to scream with frustration, she shook the spatula at his retreating figure and glared at the stove. It was a command, and even if it wasn't, she would've cooked them anyway. For some unfathomable reason, she felt that she owed Draco Malfoy, even though she didn't.

He was singing in the shower, the songs that were on the radio. She cooked breakfast to such perfection that not even Draco Malfoy could find anything to complain about; even the tea was perfect. "You had better start calling me by my name," she told him curtly as they sat across from each other at the small kitchen table.

"I suppose that means you had better start calling me 'Master.'" He smirked at her over his breakfast and said with relish, "Blimey am I going to love hearing that from your mouth."

"Shut up and eat your breakfast," Hermione didn't say what she was thinking; that those words would never come out of her mouth because she was going to find a way out of this blasted apartment and away from him if it was the last thing she did.

"Listen," he said after a few moments of silence, "if anyone knocks on the door, don't answer. Do not use my owl. I'm not going to force you to clean, after all, my apartment is exceptionally well kept as it is. I'll be home sometime this evening. Just so you know, my schedule is fairly simple to remember. Monday through Friday I will be gone from 8am until about 5pm. My weekends are free for me to do whatever I want. Oh, you should probably run up to the store because with two people living here now we'll be needing more food."

He pulled a money pouch from his pocket and tossed it onto the table. "Is that an order?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Smirking, he said, "Yes, it is. Go to the market, buy us food, and come straight back. Don't talk to anyone unless you have to or just make polite conversation and if you see anyone you recognize, avoid them to best of your ability. Understood, Kitten?" he said her name mockingly.

"Yes," she said.

"When you reply to me, say 'Yes, Master' or 'No, Master.'"

"Yes, Master," her teeth ground together as the words slipped through her lips. "Where are you going anyway? Do you have a job?"

"School," he said, sipping his tea.

"School?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, Kitten, _school_. Surely you've heard of it? It's a place where people go to learn."

"I know what a school is! I just didn't see you as the type to get further education after Hogwarts."

"Funny, I didn't peg you as the type to end up as a house elf."

Hermione _almost _lunged across the table at him. It took every ounce of her self control to keep from acting out. She contented herself with remembering the time she had slapped him across the face in third year. She remembered the satisfying _pop_ sound her hand had made against his cheek and she actually managed a small smirk.

He then reached over and said, "Give me your hand," she did. He put an emerald green ribbon on her wrist with the initials DLM. "Give me your other hand," he did the same thing to that one. "These are a sign of your…enslavement. All mudblood slaves have them. You are not allowed to remove them. They symbolize what you are and who you belong to."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Lovely, now everyone will know that I'm Draco Malfoy's bitch."

He chuckled before saying, "Alright, I should be off. You remember my instructions?"

"Yes, Master," she hated saying those words, but they came out involuntarily.

He smirked at her, his eyes twinkling with amusement and she wanted to strangle him. "Good. Now stand still," he waved his wand at her, transfiguring her features just enough so that she would not be recognized as Hermione Granger. Her hair shortened to almost chin-length, became poker straight, and turned slightly lighter brown. Her nose changed shape slightly, as did her lips and eyes (which were also now a pleasant hazel color). Her figure stayed the same.

"I'll be home around 5 o'clock. Make whatever you want to eat. Also, you can use some of the money I left you to buy yourself some clothes seeing as how you'll be stuck here for….well, ever. See you tonight." He left the apartment.

Hermione waited a few moments to make sure he wasn't going to come back, and then jumped up and rushed to the fireplace. Her first thought of escape had been to floo out of the house. She stepped into the grate, grabbed a handful of floo powder, and said clearly, "The Burrow!" she dropped the dust in her hand, but nothing happened. Not even a flicker of green.

Groaning, she climbed out of the fireplace. She knew she couldn't apparate without a wand, but some wizards were capable of wand-less magic, weren't they? With more determination than ever, she closed her eyes, envisioned the Forest of Dean and spun. Nothing happened. In vain, she ran to the door, wrenched it open and propelled herself forward, but was thrown back into the apartment by an invisible barrier.

Not to be dismayed, she searched the house until finding Malfoy's Firebolt in a hall closet and pulled open a window, feeling the warm morning breeze greet her face. Even though she absolutely hated flying, she was willing to do just about anything to leave the apartment that had become her prison. She flung one leg over the broom, bent her knees, and sprung forward toward the open window. Again, she was thrown backward by an invisible force.

Almost crying with frustration, she reached the conclusion that she would not be escaping that day. Her initial list of possibilities was depleted, and she would simply have to put some more brain power and ingenuity into her escape.

The first thing she did was shower. It felt wonderful to take a nice hot shower after all she had been through. After drying her hair, she came to the conclusion that all she had to wear were her pajamas from the night before, as the dress she had been wearing when Lucius bought her was little more than a white sack.

She rolled up the hems of the pajama pants to at least make them look like capris shorts, and she was off. It seemed that the apartment knew her intentions; when she wanted to escape, she was unable to leave, but now that she intended to shop and return, no barrier blocked her path. Sighing with relief as she entered the hallway, she took the elevator to the ground floor and then went straight to Diagon Alley.

Knowing muggle stores much better than wizard ones, Hermione exchanged some of Draco's coins for muggle money and then went to London shopping. She bought a few foods that were only sold in muggle stores for herself to enjoy, knowing that Draco wouldn't touch them. Her clothing, however, had to be bought in Diagon Alley, because no pureblood wizard would let his slave wear muggle clothes.

Once she was inside Madam Malkins, she was glad to see a wide variety of clothing. The only reason she had ever frequented that shop before was for her school robes. Now she was shopping for witch's robes, pajamas, and maybe a nice cloak or two. After all, she had a significant amount of wizard gold left.

"What are you here for?" asked a shy girl with dirty blonde hair. Hermione knew that she was a customer trying to make small talk while they shopped.

"Well, I could use a few new outfits, maybe some underclothes, pajamas would be nice," Hermione gave the girl a timid smile.

"Your Master lets you buy your own clothes? Nice clothes?" The girl motioned towards Hermione's wrists. Hermione nodded vaguely and noted that the girl was likewise wearing black ribbons with the initials BAZ on them. "You're quite fortunate," said the girl quietly.

"Who…who is your…to whom do you…" she wasn't sure how to phrase her question.

The girl gave her a small sad smile, "Blaise Zabini. Let me tell you, he's a right foul git. When he came looking for a mud…someone like me, to buy, he was shown a variety of girls, several virgins, but declared that he wanted 'a slag who knew what she was doing' so he bought me. Not that I'm a slag, of course."

Hermione felt sick. Truly and utterly disgusted. "What's your name?"

"Lucy. Or, at least that was my name, until he renamed me 'Randi.'" Her cheeks turned faintly red as she admitted this.

Hermione didn't need to ask to know why Blaise had chosen that name. It was a slang term that meant sexually excited. It was demeaning to her, and complimentary toward Blaise. At least, that's how the wizard world would see it. "I'm sorry," said Hermione, "if it makes you feel any better, I was named 'Kitten.'"

"That's not so bad. I met one girl the other day who was called 'Cherry' because she had been a virgin before she was bought."

"That's terrible!"

"Here you are," Madam Malkins had come forward from the back of her shop and handed Randi an armful of clothes, "you can let Mr. Zabini know that they were all tailored to his requirements. Have a good day." Randi nodded to Madam Malkins, then to Hermione, and left the shop. "What can I do for you?"

An hour later, Hermione left the shop with her arms laden with packages of clothing and food. Magic made carrying things so much easier. She wished, not for the first time, that she had her wand. That was when she saw that Ollivander's wand shop was open and running. Looking around quickly, she ducked into the store.

It was not, however, Mr. Ollivander behind the counter. It was a different wizard. "May I help you, Miss?"

"Yes," she said, "I'm in need of a wand."

The man rolled his eyes, "I'm afraid I cannot help you."

"But this is a wand shop!"

"Yes, but you are a slave," he motioned to her wrists. Blushing furiously, Hermione pulled down the sleeves of her shirt, but the man shook his head, "You should leave."

"I have gold! Tell me your price, any price, and I'll pay it!"

"I will not do business with you. Leave now or I'll have to use force."

Deflating in defeat, Hermione bowed her head and left the shop. It was worth a try at least. With nothing else left to shop for, her feet began automatically taking her toward the Leaky Cauldron. She remembered Draco's command to buy provisions and then come straight back.

All things considered, it had been one hell of a day, and it was just after noon. Draco wouldn't be back for hours. What was he studying for anyway? Her curiosity peaked, she made it back to his apartment quickly, put all of her purchases away and went into his study.

One glance at the books told her what she wanted to know; Draco Malfoy was studying to be a Healer. She certainly had not seen that one coming. She skimmed through the books briefly, and then with real interest began pulling them onto her lap, collapsing into his chair and reading voraciously. Whenever she was upset, it always helped to read, and there was no such thing as a boring book.

She was so engrossed in _Cures for Curses_ that she jumped when she heard the front door close with a snap. "Kitten? I'm home. Why isn't dinner cooking?" his tone was somewhat teasing and somewhat serious. He came around the corner and found her sitting on the floor of his study surrounded by open books. "I should have known," he said with a snort.

"What? You didn't say I wasn't allowed to read."

"Of course you're allowed to read, but those books are bloody boring."

"I think they're simply fascinating! Is this how you got rid of my scars?" she asked, motioning to a spell she had found.

Draco shook his head, "Those won't work on _Sectumsempra._ Besides, the curses used on you were Dark Magic. You won't find remedies for Dark Magic in Healer books."

"Well why not? Healers need to know how to cure things!"

"I agree, but they're simply not allowed."

"Why do you even want to be a Healer? Don't you revel in death and destruction?"

"Yet again, Granger, I don't have to explain my reasons to you."

"Yet again, Malfoy, call me 'Kitten.'"

"Fine then, _Kitten_, what did you buy at the store today?"

"Food and clothes."

"Is that _all_?"

"Yes."

"Is there anything else that you _tried_ to buy?"

"No."

"Answer my question truthfully."

"Yes. Damn it, Malfoy! Stop forcing the truth out of me you evil prat!"

"I received an owl today from Mr. Burke, you know him, from Borgin and Burkes. He took over Ollivander's wand shop a few months ago. He said that a mudblood slave attempted to purchase a wand from him. A mudblood slave who just so happened to have my initials on her bonds."

"Bonds?" she scoffed, "they're ribbons."

"They're representative of bonds, plus that's what they're called; 'bonds.' That's not even the point!" he rubbed his forehead and looked as if he were having an intense mental dilemma, "The point is that if you actually manage to escape, the Dark Lord will find you and kill you. He can track you."

"I was thinking about that today actually," as she spoke she calmly closed the book in her lap and set it where she had found it on his desk, "you don't want me anymore than I want to be here. So why don't you go and buy yourself another girl? Your father won't know the difference. You could just say that you transfigured my looks to suit your tastes."

He sighed heavily, "You still don't get the seriousness of this situation. Or perhaps you just don't know, since you have been so out of touch with the wizard world for so long. The Traders and Sellers of mudbloods keep a very detailed and very intricate log of every mudblood they find, have, and sell. When my father bought you, he filled out papers, Granger. If I buy another one, I'll have to fill out papers. It will be in their records that I own _two _mudbloods. They might find that suspicious. They might ask my father about it. Worse, they might mention it to some other Death Eater. No matter how, it _will _get back around to the Dark Lord and then guess what? He Tracks you, kills me, and tortures you for information on Potter. Is that what you want?"

"I didn't…I didn't know that they kept a log of how many slaves you own."

"Now you know. For Merlin's sake, Kitten, if you escape, _we both die_."

"Draco," she had only used his name once before, in a moment of excitement and a slip of the tongue, but she used it very deliberately now and he looked at her curiously, "you have risked a lot to make sure that I didn't fall into the wrong hands, and I am thankful for that. As important as it is that I help Harry and Ron defeat You-Know-Who, I will not let you die in order to accomplish that. It wouldn't be right. I apologize for these dreadful circumstances. I'm so sorry that I was foolish enough to be lured away from the safe haven Harry, Ron, and I had created. I won't…I won't try to escape again," she said the last line in a whisper.

"Damn right you won't. I _forbid _you from trying to escape," at his words, she gasped, feeling a particularly powerful tingle singe up and down her spine. He didn't want to have to do it. That had been the mental dilemma he had been having a few moments before. At one time he had loved making people do what he said, but now that he had such absolute power over a person, he found that he despised it. He felt like a monster for abusing that power now, but he didn't really have a choice. He had decided to keep this girl from Voldemort's clutches, and he wasn't going to let her get either of them killed. "I'm sorry, but it had to be done. Now go and start dinner, it's getting late."


	5. Visitors

**A/N: I don't have much to say about this chapter except that I didn't really plan it…I just sat down, started typing, and this is what came out! I hope it's alright! Let me know what you think. All comments, suggestions, critiques, etc. are welcome!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to JK Rowlin.**

**WARNING: Sensitive topic issue in this chapter. Attempted rape. **

…**..**

_Bellatrix was stalking toward her, wand at the ready. Hermione's wand was far out of her reach as she lay on the floor of Malfoy Manor, begging for her life. Bellatrix laughed when Hermione screamed and continued to circle her with murder in her eyes. _

"_Tell me what else you took from my vault!"_

_Vaguely, as if in a dream, Hermione could hear the voice of the man she loved screaming her name from far below her. She focused on that voice. The distant yell of 'Hermione!' "We didn't take anything from your vault," Hermione said, not for the first time._

"_Liar!" Bellatrix was on her again, slicing her wand through the air. _

"_Stop! Please! We weren't in your vault! We weren't!"_

_Still, she could hear that sweet, perfect voice calling her name. The pain intensified a hundred fold and she knew that the Cruciatus Curse was being performed on her yet again. How much longer could she endure this? Trying hard to focus on her own name being screamed in anguish from the dungeons, her vision started to dim. Perhaps dying wouldn't be so bad after all. _

"_Hermione! Hermione!" The voice was changing, screaming something else instead, a different name, one she responded to but not as quickly. A voice that was such a sweeter tone, but didn't hold quite the same amount of emotion, "Kitten! Kitten!"_

The second morning in a row, Hermione woke up with a gasp to find herself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy. He looked concerned and aggravated. "Are you awake now?" he growled. He was griping her shoulders tightly as if he had been shaking her. Maybe he had been. He released her shoulders roughly, pushing her just slightly into the mattress.

"Yes," she mumbled quietly, "I'm sorry."

"Whatever. Get up, make breakfast, I'm going to take a shower," he stood up from where he had been sitting on the edge of her bed and snapped as he walked away, "I want pancakes, Kitten."

It was easier for Draco to remember to call her 'Kitten' now that her appearance was different. The shorter, lighter brown hair, the odd hazel eyes, the longer nose and thinner lips, she didn't look like Granger.

As he walked down the hall, he flicked his wand toward his radio and it began playing the station that he normally listened to. "_Going out for a fun night, downing firewhiskey till the morning light…Can't apparate because I can't see straight, so I'll use the floo network to get to your grate…"_

The music stopped. Good thing he was almost done with his shower anyway. He quickly rinsed any remaining soap residue off of his body, wrapped a towel around his waist and came storming out yelling, "Kitten! Turn that radio back on!" the music started up again and Hermione came around the corner looking angry, but stopped short when she realized that he was still dripping wet, his white-blonde hair going in every direction, and a small blue towel around his waist.

"I don't like the music," she said after averting her eyes to stare at her own feet.

"Too bad, I listen to it every morning and I'm not going to change my routine just because you're here. If I am home and I turn it on, do not turn it off." He hadn't meant to give a direct command, but he saw the effect it had on her as she stiffened.

"Yes, Master," she said quietly.

Growling in agitation, he went to his room and slammed the door closed behind him. He had never met such an infuriating woman in his entire life. Roughly, he pulled on some clothes, and then went to the kitchen. The pancakes were done, like the eggs the previous morning, to perfection. He watched with curiosity as Hermione pulled a jar from the cupboard and then sat across from him.

She opened the jar, scooped out something that looked brown and sticky, slathered it onto her pancakes and then reached for the syrup that was already on the table. "What the hell is that?" Draco asked, looking revolted.

"Peanut butter," said Hermione shortly. So that's how it was going to be this morning.

Draco harrumphed but didn't say anything. They ate in silence, and Draco was exceptionally curious as to what peanut butter was exactly and what it tasted like, but seeing as how Hermione was having an attitude with him, he wasn't about to ask.

Before leaving, he said, "If my father stops by, you can let him in."

"What if anyone else stops by?"

"I don't think anyone else will be stopping by, but use your own judgment. Nobody would guess that you're Hermione Granger, so I don't think there's any real harm in you opening the door. Just make sure it's not a thief. Any questions Kitten?"

"No, I think I've got it all."

"Excellent. See you tonight," he grabbed a book from the coffee table and left. Not knowing what else to do with herself, Hermione wandered into the kitchen and washed some dishes. She was used to washing dishes by hand, as that was how she had always done them at home. _Home_. If she could never leave Draco, she would never see her parents again. They were still in Australia, not even knowing they had a daughter.

Hermione couldn't think about that now. She had to concentrate on just taking one day at a time. After the dishes, she took a shower and continued cleaning the apartment simply because she was bored. Of course there wasn't a television set; for one thing, muggle electricity wouldn't work in a wizarding apartment complex, and for another, Draco probably didn't even know what a television was.

Of course he had lots of books in his study, and Hermione's mind kept wandering to them, but she decided to keep herself physically busy for a while. After all, if she spent her days doing nothing but reading, she would become rather lazy.

Around noon she made herself a sandwich, cleaned everything up, and there was a knock on the door. Hermione groaned; that must be Lucius. Without even hesitating, she wrenched the door open. However, it wasn't Lucius Malfoy that was on the other side. Hermione almost slipped up and said his name out loud, but instead she clamped her mouth shut and waited for him to speak first.

"Ah, yes," Blaise Zabini stepped into the room, and smirked at her, "you must be Kitten."

Hermione nodded, unsure of what else to say. Saying that she had never liked Zabini would be an understatement. She could safely say that she hated him. When they were in their sixth year at Hogwarts together, they were both a part of the 'Slug Club' and she quickly came to know that Blaise Zabini was bad news.

Randi entered the apartment just behind her master, carrying what looked like his brief case. "My servant," he motioned toward Randi, "told me that Draco bought a mudblood. I admit I didn't believe it at first," he laughed, "Draco's always been a bit of a weakling. Yet here you are. My name is Blaise Zabini, by the way, you can call me 'Master Zabini.'"

Hermione bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. It sounded like a muggle magician's stage name. Playing along, she said politely, "Is there anything I can get for you, Master Zabini? I'm afraid my master isn't home right now."

"Where is Draco?"

"At school," said Hermione quickly. Zabini looked around the apartment as if inspecting it. Randi stood just behind him, staring at her feet and occasionally glancing up and giving Hermione a timid smile.

After scrutinizing the sitting room, Blaise looked closely at Hermione, "He chose a good name for you, Kitten. Sexy, feisty, delicate, just like you," he reached up and stroked her cheek. Hermione flinched away from the touch. "I'm not going to hurt you," Hermione didn't believe him.

"I'm surprised Draco bought a virgin. He's always preferred the more experienced type. Maybe he decided that he wanted to teach you a few things. Have you learned anything from him, Kitten?" her name rolled off of his tongue like poison and Hermione started shaking as he stepped even closer to her.

She knew that she had to answer this question carefully. If she even hinted that they hadn't had sex, he would know something suspicious was going on, but if she answered yes then she had a feeling that Zabini would be excited by that fact. She opted for a small shrug and an innocent, "I've only been here for two nights."

"Tsk, tsk, if Draco hasn't taught you much in all that time, then he is clearly slacking. You deserve to be with someone with a bit more stamina. Someone who can make you feel really good," alarm bells were ringing in Hermione's head but she didn't know what to do. There was nothing she really could do. She glanced at Randi, who appeared emotionless.

Was it common for Blaise to force himself on women in front of her like this? She figured it must be. "Looking at Randi, are you, Kitten?" Zabini noticed where Hermione's eyes were, "she can join us, if you'd like," he snapped his fingers, "Randi!"

"Yes, Master?" she replied at once.

"No!" said Hermione quickly, seeing where this is going, "I'm forbidden from doing anything with another man," she invented wildly, "I can't do anything with you."

"Maybe not willingly," said Zabini, "but if I forced you, then you wouldn't be disobeying his orders."

"Force yourself on me, and I will cut your balls off, you monster!" she yelled and then she ran. Zabini grabbed her hair and yanked her back, against him.

"Now, now, Kitten, that wasn't very nice. I was just trying to show you how to loosen up and have some fun. Maybe if I teach you a thing or two, Draco will appreciate my help. You sure are a wild one. I bet he has lots of fun with you."

He kissed her neck and Hermione screamed. "What is going on?" asked a slow silky voice. In the doorway of the apartment stood Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape. Hermione felt a moment of relief at seeing her old Potions professor. Until she remembered that the last time she had seen him, he had cursed George Weasley's ear off.

She let out a pitiful whimper and Blaise pushed her away from him. "Nothing," he said innocently. "I was just leaving. Come on, Randi," she bowed her head and followed Zabini out of the apartment without a word.

Lucius closed the apartment door and Hermione took a step back, the backs of her knees hitting the edge of the coffee table. "Calm down, silly girl," snapped Lucius, "we aren't going to force ourselves on you. I trust that you will tell my son what his friend tried to do?" Hermione nodded. "Good. Where is my son?"

"School," she said in a hoarse whisper. At the sound of her voice, Snape's eyes snapped to her face and scrutinized her closely. Hermione flinched under his gaze and suddenly felt an intrusion in her mind. She knew this; Harry had talked about this, Snape was using Legillimens against her. Trying desperately to close her mind, she watched as her memories swam before her eyes.

Severus hissed and the intrusion in her mind stopped. He knew who she was. She was looking at him with pleading eyes. "When will he be home?" asked Lucius as he walked around the apartment lazily, as if looking for something he could complain about. He hadn't noticed the exchange that had just taken place between Snape and Hermione.

"Some time this evening. 5 o'clock, maybe."

"Before we leave, will you please fetch us a drink? I could use a tall glass of firewhiskey. How about you, Severus?"

"Nothing, for me," his eyes hadn't left her face. She nodded and retreated to the kitchen, retrieving their drinks and brining them to the sitting room.

"It seems that my son is doing a good job with you," said Lucius, "you were quick with those drinks. I admit, I had my doubts about Draco owning a mudblood. I didn't think he would be able to use a firm fist with you, but he seems to have quite a good handle on you. What did he name you?"

"Kitten," said Hermione, "he calls me 'Kitten.'"

"Not bad, though not what I would have chosen," said Lucius loftily, "it's too bad Narcissa is against owning one."

"Is she worried that you would prefer the mudblood over her?" asked Snape.

"No, nothing of that sort. She won't even let me own a male one. I think that she still feels like they have feelings. Even when we owned that wretched house elf, she was always trying to be kind to it. She doesn't understand that they're not like us, they don't feel things the way we do, they're more like animals, really. My dear wife has always had such a tender heart," said Lucius sadly.

Hermione couldn't be sure, but in that moment she thought that she saw Snape's knuckles whiten due to how tightly he was holding his fists closed and his jaw tightened. Had Lucius said something that would offend Snape? Surely not. They were on the same side after all.

After he finished his drink, Lucius said to Hermione, "Be sure to inform Draco that there is a meeting tonight at the Manor at 8 o'clock. It is essential that he be there. Can you remember to tell him?"

"Yes," said Hermione, but Lucius looked skeptical.

"Perhaps I should write it down…"

Her eyes blazed with indignation, "I said, I will remember to tell him," she just about snarled. Lucius' eyes widened in surprise and Snape looked like he was trying not to smirk.

"Maybe I was wrong before and my son will need some help handling you after all. Let's go, Severus," the two men left the apartment quickly. As soon as she was alone, Hermione started shaking. She sank down onto the couch and hugged her knees into her chest. Snape knew who she was. Severus Snape knew she was Hermione Granger. Draco was going to die, she was going to die, everything was lost.

Even though she had been certain that she had locked the door, and there were strong enchantments on the apartment to keep intruders out, the door burst open and Severus Snape came striding in. Hermione squeaked and scuttled away from him. He slammed the door shut behind him and said, "You foolish girl, Granger! What are you doing here! How did you get caught?"

"I…I didn't…it was an accident," she stuttered.

"Do you realize what you've done? The situation you have put me in?" he snarled, "if the Dark Lord ever looks into your mind, it will not only incriminate Draco, but also me!"

"You? But, Prof – er – Snape, aren't you going to hand me over to the Dark Lord?"

He sneered, "So Draco will die? I think not!"

"But..." Hermione was confused, "but isn't Draco's death insignificant in the scope of capturing Harry? Wouldn't his life be a necessary sacrifice to your master?"

"Do you want me to take you to the Dark Lord, Granger?" asked Snape with raised eyebrows, "Or would you rather me save some time and summon him here?" he pulled up the sleeve of his robe to reveal his Dark Mark. Hermione gasped and clasped a hand over her mouth.

"N-no! Of course that's not what I want, but why aren't you doing that?"

Snape stared at her coldly for a moment before saying, "My reasons are my own. However, it makes no difference if you know now, seeing as how if the Dark Lord ever looks into your mind, he will know that I knew your identity and didn't tell him. The bigger question is why hasn't Draco?"

"I've been wondering that myself," said Hermione with a frown. Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape were the two people she would have thought least likely to protect her, and yet they both recognized her and agreed to not tell Voldemort.

"I've seen your memories of the past few days, Granger," said Snape after a moment of silence, "Draco has been kind to you and you are grateful to him. I suspect that Draco wants Harry Potter to triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Whether he will admit it or not, that's what I believe is going on here. Draco hates living in this world. He thought he would love it, but this world is so full of hate and despair that Draco has come to the point now where he believes that the world would be better the way it was. He hopes for the Dark Lord's downfall, and Harry Potter is the only one who can defeat him. Draco keeps you safe to keep his own hope alive. You will tell him to teach you Occlumency. Begin learning Occlumency from him immediately and maybe we will yet manage to keep you safe. Don't forget to give Draco his father's message."

"I won't," said Hermione, sounding somewhat exasperated, "I'm not like an animal, Severus," she said quietly, tears filling her eyes.

Snape frowned at her, showing the only emotion she had ever seen from him besides anger, "I know, Miss Granger. You are an exceptionally bright witch, very talented magically, and a part of me is surprised you haven't escaped yet."

"I was forbidden from trying to escape," she held up her hands, showing her bonds to Snape. Snape's eyes turned to slits and he pressed his lips tightly together.

"The world was never meant to be this way. Making slaves of muggle borns should not be acceptable in any circumstances. Be brave, Miss Granger, and hold on tightly to your hope. Dark forces are trying to break down those of us who still hope. Good luck," he swept from the apartment, leaving a startled Hermione behind him.

When Draco arrived home, Hermione had dinner ready. It was just a simple dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, but Draco devoured it happily. "Your father stopped by," she told him at once, "he said there is a meeting tonight at 8 o'clock in the Manor. He said you have to be there."

"Of course I have to be there," said Draco with a sad sigh. There was a darkness in his features that hadn't been there a moment ago.

"Severus Snape was with him," Draco reacted violently to that statement. He leapt to his feet, knocking his chair backwards, and threw down his napkin.

"Severus Snape is a very skilled Legillimens, Granger!" Draco snarled, "please tell me that he did not get inside your mind!" When Hermione winced, Draco grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, "Kitten, you tell me now, _does he know who you are_?"

"Yes," she whispered, "but he won't tell."

"Hippogriff shit!" Snarled Draco, "He will tell! And when he does, we're both dead!"

"No," said Hermione quietly, "trust me, Draco, he won't tell. After your father left, Snape and I talked for a while. He wants you to teach me Occlumency just in case I am ever in the presence of You-Know-Who."

Draco's eyes snapped up to Hermione's. The silver-grey gaze penetrated hers almost painfully, "He wants you to learn how to protect your mind form being intruded by others?"

"Yes."

Draco paced back and forth in the spacious kitchen. "Alright, then maybe all is not lost. I will start working with you tonight as soon as I get home from the meeting."

"Is it a…Death Eater meeting?"

"Yes, it is. The Dark Lord will be there tonight to give us instructions and plan our next step. His main priority is still finding Potter, but that's almost a dead end at this point. I actually think it might be starting to drive him crazy, this obsession with Potter. I wouldn't be surprised if he forced us to comb every inch of this country by hand."

"Oh, and Malfoy?" he paused in his pacing to look at her. "Blaise Zabini stopped by today."

Concern flashed in his eyes for a moment before disappearing behind an emotionless mask, "Are you alright? Did he hurt you? If he forced himself on you, I will kill him. It's unacceptable for a wizard to take advantage of another wizard's property."

Hermione's teeth snapped together audibly, "No, he didn't hurt me. He tried to force himself on me, but your father and Snape showed up and he left quickly."

"At least my father's useful for something," mumbled Draco. "Relax for a few hours, Kitten. I'm heading over to the Manor now. I'll see Snape and make sure that he was being honest with you and then I'll stay for the meeting. I'm not sure how long it will last, but no matter how late I get in, we _will_ practice Occlumency tonight for at least an hour, so be ready."

Hermione nodded, and wrapped her arms around herself as she watched Draco use the floo network to go to Malfoy Manor. Unsure of what exactly was going on, she couldn't help but feel as if she had gained two very unexpected allies.


	6. Impasse

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me! It all belongs to JK Rowling. **

**WARNING: Sensitive topic issue in this chapter.**

**Author's note at the end.**

…**.**

"That's better, Kitten, much better," said Draco in approval as she foiled his attempt at penetrating her mind. It was their third night of practice. Hermione had been living with Draco Malfoy for almost an entire week and they hadn't killed each other yet.

He had returned home from the Death Eater meeting angsty and moody, but had still done his best to teach her the basic fundamentals. Hermione didn't like to admit that she hated being taught things by others, but Draco was a good teacher. She was somewhat surprised that she was doing so well, but it wasn't that hard, really. What had Harry been complaining about? This was effortless!

"Try again," she commanded, sweat coating her face.

"We've already been practicing for over an hour, and during that last attempt I was only inside of your mind for maybe twenty seconds before you blocked me."

"Still, Malfoy, it would take You-Know-Who only one second to realize my true identity, and I'm sure he's a stronger Legillimens than you. I need to be perfect."

"The chances of you ever meeting him are slim to none as it is. Learning Occlumency is just a precaution." She gave him a challenging look and he said, "Fine. Prepare yourself," he gave her three seconds before, "_Legilimens!_" he was soaring through her memories.

A young Hermione and her parents camping in a forest. Hermione dancing with Viktor at the Yule Ball. Harry and Hermione studying in the library. Ron returning after having abandoned them on their search for Horcruxes. Draco had the nerve to laugh when Hermione called Ron a 'complete arse' and his laughter gave her the motivation she needed to slam her mind shut.

"Excellent," he encouraged, and she really was. "I know you said that Defense Against the Dark Arts was your worst subject, but you would never know it by how well you've been doing. I have full confidence that you will be a master at Occlumency within the next week or two."

Hermione made a noise of consent and sat tiredly on the sofa. It was Friday evening and Draco had stoked the fireplace, which was the only source of light in the room. "I know that this arrangement is meant to be forever, but doesn't it feel like we're just biding our time?" she was speaking softly, staring into the flames.

Draco stretched and sat on the opposite side of the sofa, "I know what you mean. It feels like the calm before a storm, but Kitten, this is it. We'd better get used to it right now. Whatever tricks Potter thinks he has up his sleeve probably won't pan out. We both know that. Especially with you not there to help them. You are still living in the past, and you need to snap out of it. This is the present. This is real. There's no pretending otherwise. The reason I have been making such a huge effort to get along with you is because-"

"You've been making a huge effort?" she asked skeptically.

"Yes, actually, I have," he said snippily, "and the reason I have is because whether either of us likes it or not, we're stuck together forever. This is your future, Kitten. Legally, you are _not_ Hermione Granger anymore. Legally, you do _not _have any rights any longer. Legally, you belong to me." With a sigh, he summoned a bottle of firewhiskey from the kitchen and poured each of them a glass.

"Thanks," she said as she took it from him. "Not just for the drink, but for making a huge effort. I know you're an arse, and I know this situation sucks for both of us, but I don't think you're right, Malfoy. I think that there is more for me than this."

"I'm nothing if not a realist, Kitten, and here's the deal. I've been sorting through that insane brain of yours for the past three nights. I know that you love Weasley and think that he and Potter are going to sweep in and rescue you, but that's not reality. There is no knight in shining armor coming for you. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can make the best of your new life. I know this isn't the future you imagined, but is it really that terrible?"

Hermione stared blankly at her empty glass; she had never drunk so much alcohol before. Draco poured more into her glass as she said, "Any future without the people I love is horrible. Malfoy, I can't deny my feelings since you've experienced them for yourself. You know that I love Ron and Harry and Ginny… I can't imagine a future without them. It's not that I don't want to or that I'm denying reality, it's that I _can't_ have a future without them."

"There's never been a better time to develop an imagination then, Kitten, because that's how it's going to be. The world is changing and laws that you never thought would exist in your wildest nightmares have been put into effect. Do you realize what was decided at the last Death Eater meeting? I didn't tell you, did I? The Dark Lord wants Pius to push through a law that will legalize muggle hunting. Muggle. Hunting," he repeated for emphasis. "It could go into effect as soon as next week." Draco swirled around the amber liquid in his glass and then downed it in one swallow.

"My family…" Hermione said hoarsely, "my friends…all of those poor, poor muggles."

"That's the future, Granger. Not some happy home with Weasley that you're picturing. As much as I hate to say it, I am your future," he motioned to himself, "this is what you have to look forward to every day for the rest of your existence."

"Existence?" she found his wording odd.

"Yes, Granger, existence, because that's all this is, isn't it? You're not truly living anymore are you? You're just existing."

"Draco?"

"Hmm?" she rarely called him by his first name, and he found that he kind of liked it. He knew that since they were stuck together until one of them died, she might as well call him by his first name. But to him, she would always be 'Granger' or 'Kitten.'

"Can I go out on Monday? I despise having to ask permission, but I can't leave unless you command me to."

"Where do you want to go?"

"Just Diagon Alley. I've read most of the books in your study and there's nothing left in this place to clean. It's mind numbing to be trapped in here all day, and I haven't even been here for an entire week."

"Kitten, go to Diagon Alley on Monday, stop by whatever stores you want, take your time, and be back home before five."

"Thank you," she said quietly, setting her empty glass on the coffee table.

"It's mutually beneficial for me to be kind to you. If I'm nice to you, you're nice to me. If I'm a git to you, you could poison my dinner." He laughed, but Hermione just frowned. He didn't realize how close he had been to being murdered by her. After all, that was all it would take to set her free, wasn't it?

"What happens when you want to get married?" she asked.

"Nothing. First of all, I don't want to get married, and second of all, even if I did, things wouldn't change. Except that you would have to obey all of the commands my wife gave you."

"You don't want to get married? Ever?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I'm trying hard not to be a git here, Granger. You should know better by now than to ask me for my reasons behind the things I do."

"Merlin, Malfoy, I'm sorry, it just seems to me like you were a huge womanizer in school and yet I haven't seen a single girl here since I've arrived. Then again, maybe you just hook up with them while you're training to be a Healer."

Not at all offended by her assumption, Draco rolled his eyes, "In case you haven't noticed, you are a girl. Secondly, I have never been a womanizer. Thirdly, I'm not a man whore. I'm not going to shag some bint just because she's there. Not that you would know anything about shagging though, right?"

Hermione felt her face grow hot, but wasn't sure if it was a real blush or just the alcohol she had consumed, "Going to make fun of me, Malfoy?"

"No, I won't. I would have been shocked if you weren't, actually. Then again, I don't know, you were getting awfully chummy with Krum in fourth year," he teased.

Hermione laughed and the sound of it was foreign to her own ears. At the sound of her brittle laugh, they both froze and stared at each other. It was the first time she had laughed in a very, very long time. "Viktor and I were never _that _chummy," she corrected at once, trying to cover up the awkwardness of her laughter.

"Are you sure? I came across one memory of yours…"

"We were just snogging."

"Sure, Granger, I'll believe you. But only because the bloke that sold you to me confirmed that you're still a virgin. I bet you're secretly a real wild woman between the sheets. Yes, that would be my guess. Hermione Granger; secret sex addict."

"You wish, Malfoy," she smirked at him.

For a moment he looked almost wistful but then sneered, "I don't care if it's the new trend or not, I'm not sleeping with a mudblood."

After several days of practice, she was starting to tune out the unpleasant things he said, letting them go over her head without dwelling on them much. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Just staying at home. Studying, probably. I have a test on Monday that I need to prepare for."

"Do you ever get tired of holding everything in? Don't you ever get sick of bottling up your feelings? You can talk to me, you know. It's not like I have anyone to tell your secrets to. Even if I did, you could simply forbid me from telling your secrets."

"As tempting of an option as that is, Granger, I would rather keep my thoughts to myself, thanks. Aren't there things that you are not willing to tell me?"

"Of course, but that's different. You're a _Death Eater_."

"Fair point."

"We should probably be getting to bed. It's late." Hermione stood up, suddenly afraid that Draco might demand for her to tell him all of her secrets. He already knew a few of them from their Occlumency lessons, but she had managed to shut him out of her mind before he heard anything about Horcruxes or the Trio's plan to bring Voldemort down.

"You go on ahead, I'm going to stay up for a while," she watched worriedly as he poured himself yet another glass of firewhiskey, but she didn't say anything. Just frowned and retreated to her bedroom.

….

"FUCK, KITTEN! THIS IS THE FIFTH MORNING IN A ROW!"

"I'M SORRY! BUT IT'S NOT LIKE I CAN HELP IT!"

"CAN'T YOU DO SOMETHING? THIS IS GETTING OUT OF HAND! IT'S A FUCKING SATURDAY! DON'T YOUR NIGHTMARES UNDERSTAND WHAT A VACATION IS?"

"NO, ACTUALLY THEY DON'T, BECAUSE THEY'RE _NIGHTMARES!_"

They were both standing in the doorways of their respective bedrooms, glaring across the hallway at each other. Yet again, Hermione had woken Draco up at six in the morning to blood curdling screams.

"GENERALLY I LIKE TO FUCKING SLEEP IN ON FUCKING SATURDAYS!"

"DO YOU HAVE TO SAY 'FUCK' SO MANY TIMES THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING?"

"YES! FUCK FUCK FUCK! DO YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP SCREAMING YOUR BLOODY LUNGS OUT EVERY MORNING?"

"APPARENTLY I DO!"

"AFTER ALMOST A WEEK HERE WITHOUT ANYTHING HAPPENING, ONE WOULD THINK THAT YOU MIGHT START TO FEEL SOME SEMBLANCE OF SAFETY, BUT NO, NOT YOU, YOU ANNOYING LITTLE MUDBLOOD!"

"EVIL GIT!"

"BITCH!"

"TOSSER!"

"SLAG!"

"PRAT!"

"SELF-RIGHTEOUS BINT!"

"ARGGG!" Hermione spun around, stepped into her room and slammed her bedroom door closed. Draco did the same, but couldn't help smirking just a little bit at the look on her face.

After breakfast, Draco sat quietly in his study reading one of his many textbooks and trying to memorize the ingredients in Dittany. "Draco?" Hermione had almost whispered his name as she stepped into the room.

"What?" he snapped. They hadn't spoken since their argument that morning.

"I'm bored," she sounded almost apologetic, "there's nothing for me to do here."

"How is that my problem?" he didn't even look up from his book.

"It's your problem because if you don't give me something to do, I'm going to keep annoying you until you let me out of here."

"You're going to Diagon Alley on Monday," he reminded her dismissively.

With an angry 'hmph,' Hermione went back into the living room. She laid down on the rug, beside the coffee table and stared up at the ceiling. She didn't like not having anything to do. Her mind always ended up wandering back to Harry and Ron and wondering what they were doing and if they were safe.

After half an hour of this, she heard Draco's feet padding down the hallway. She had been there for so long that she was already attuned to his individual footfalls. Most of the time she could even tell what was on his feet; socks, shoes, barefoot. Wanting something to occupy her mind, she closed her eyes and listened. He was wearing socks, she decided. The sound was coming closer and then stopped abruptly.

Her eyes opened to see him standing in the doorway staring at her with a frown. "Alright, you want to get out of here? We're going to the park."

"The park?" she asked.

"I usually go to the park on the weekends," he said this in a tone that clearly warned her to not ask why. "are you ready or do you need to go get anything?" he asked as he motioned to the jeans and long sleeved shirt she was wearing. It tended to be chilly in the apartment, but she knew it was blistering hot outside in this July weather.

Excited to have something to do, she jumped up and ran into her bedroom. When she came out a moment later, she was wearing a pair of plain white shorts and a navy blue tank top. Her straight hair was clipped back, out of her face. The green bonds were irremovable, so they still shone brightly on her wrists. "Wow, I didn't know that Draco Malfoy even owned a pair of shorts," she teased.

Draco frowned and felt self-conscious in his khaki shorts and black t-shirt. Did he really look that odd? "To muggles we'll just look like a couple out for a walk," he said shortly, ignoring her statement, "to wizards, we'll look like a master and a servant trying to blend in with muggles; we'll be fine." He was talking more to himself than to her. One of Draco's biggest fears was that Hermione didn't act like the normal Mudblood slave; she acted like she was his equal, and when they were in the company of others, she would have to act her part convincingly.

"Don't worry," she told him, "if we run into anyone in the magical community, I'll be sure to act like an abused house elf," she said these words with venom, but was too happy to let those thoughts drag her down at the moment. She was getting out of this apartment! She was going to a park! Blimey, it was amazing what five days of being cooped up somewhere did to a person.

"Let's be off, then," he took a hold of her arm and moved to apparate, but she stopped him.

"Can't we please walk? I haven't been outside in ages!"

"Oh, alright," he snapped. Grudgingly, he opened the door for her, and they left the apartment.

The park wasn't exactly what she was expecting. Hermione had been imagining a place that was heavily wooded, with maybe a beaten path and the occasional park bench. But Draco took her to a small wooded area with a playground. Children were screaming with glee and laughing as they chased each other around.

He sat on the grass and patted the spot beside him. She sat down. After a moment, he sighed in contentment and leaned back, laying the palms of his hands flat on the ground behind him to support himself, and turned his face up toward the sun. A small smile pulled up the corners of his mouth and his eyes were closed, enjoying the nice day outside.

After a few moments, Hermione got up, brushed off her backside, and made her way over to the swings. She pumped her legs back and forth, propelling herself higher and higher. Draco watched with amusement. Who would have thought that she had a childlike side? Maybe that's why she fancied Weasley. While he watched her, the few children who had been playing there left to go home for lunch, and when Hermione knew that she and Draco were alone, she propelled herself even higher.

When the swing reached it's highest, she let herself slide off of the seat and into the air. Draco reacted quickly, leaping to his feet and pulling his wand from his pocket, but there was no need. With a huge smile, and her eyes wide open in exhilaration, Hermione began returning to the ground slowly, floating down gently as if she weighed no more than a feather.

His jaw hung open at that amazing display of magic. "How did you…" he began.

"Ever since I was little," she said sadly, "I have been able to fall from tall heights without getting hurt. It was how I knew I was a witch before Dumbledore came and told me. Even without a wand, I can do some forms of magic, and it feels great to be able to release some of that pent-up magic."

"I should have known," he told her with a drawl, "that you would find a way to do magic even when you're not supposed to."

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Malfoy, it was just a simple Hover Charm."

"Just don't pull any stunts like that in front of other people. Got it?" a shiver went up her spine, and she recognized the command.

"Yes, Master," the words came out of her mouth against her will, like usual.

He groaned, "Sorry, Kitten, it's hard getting used to the idea that everything I tell you to do you have to do. I'm so used to you being a bossy little know-it-all who wouldn't do what I said even if her life depended on it."

Her cheeks flushed red with indignation, but before she could reply, he smirked and said, "Let's walk." The two of them circled the large park three times at a leisurely pace. "Have you had your fill of the outside yet? Ready to go back in?"

"Can't we go see a movie or something?" she asked hopefully.

"A movie?"

"Yes, a movie. It's this muggle thing where-"

"No."

"But I-"

"I said _no_. We aren't going to do anything that involves muggles or muggle inventions. Is that understood?"

Wanting to say something else, but being unable to, the words that came out of her mouth were, "Yes, Master."

"Come on," he said consolingly, "we'll stop for ice cream on the way back."

"I'm not a child, Malfoy."

"So you don't want ice cream?"

"I never said that," she corrected him.

He smirked, but didn't say anything until they reached the ice cream parlor. Hermione ordered a chocolate ice cream, and was surprised that Draco got the same. He paid the clerk, and they stepped back out into the hot July afternoon. "Thanks, this is really good," she said politely.

"You're welcome."

She couldn't remember the last time she had ice cream and thanked her lucky stars that a new ice cream parlor had opened up in Diagon Alley. Draco wouldn't have stopped at a muggle shop after all. When they returned home, Hermione's entire demeanor changed. Seeing her so forlorn bothered Draco. They were going to be in this situation for, conceivably, the rest of their lives, and he didn't think he could live with her forever if she was going to be unhappy.

"I know something that will keep that oversized brain of yours occupied for a while," he said shrewdly and disappeared down the hall. He returned with several boxes in his hands.

"Jigsaw puzzles!" She exclaimed as he set the boxes on the coffee table. Eagerly, she took the boxes and glanced at them. Which one would she put together first? Wizard puzzles were so much better than muggle puzzles, because they moved and made noise when you finished them correctly. There was on that had a Hungarian Horntail on it. Another was of a mermaid. There was another puzzle that depicted a Quidditch player chasing after a Snitch. Another one was a simmering cauldron; that one looked hard because almost the entire puzzle was black. The final box held a puzzle that showed a werewolf howling at the moon.

That one bothered Hermione because it reminded her so much Remus Lupin. She chose the mermaid and tipped the box upside down, dumping all of the scrambled pieces onto the glass surface of the coffee table.

Draco seated himself more comfortably on the floor and Hermione frowned at him, "Don't you have to study for some test you have tomorrow?"

He gave her a small smile, "It can wait."

…

"That piece doesn't go there, you prat!" she snapped, hours later. He was starting to rush because the puzzle was almost complete.

"You know, for someone who's supposed to be the brightest witch of her age, you sure are terrible with puzzles," he mocked as he proved to her that the piece she had scoffed at, did in fact belong exactly where she said it hadn't.

"I have my flaws and my weaknesses, just like everybody else," she sniffed.

"And I'm supposedly the haughty one? Take a look in the mirror, Kitten."

Rolling her eyes she continued working on the puzzle. They were just finishing up the mermaid's tail. "Oh no! Where's the last piece?" she cried as she realized there was one piece missing and it wasn't on the table.

"Hold your hippogriffs, it's right here," he said as he found it under the table. He handed it to her and watched the satisfied smile that graced her lips when she put it into it's proper place. Immediately the Mermaid squealed in delight and started doing flips through the water in the picture.

Hermione chuckled lightly; it still didn't feel natural for her to laugh. Draco sighed and stood up to stretch. Blimey, they'd been sitting down for a long time. He went off to study and she wandered into the kitchen to make dinner. What had started off as a terrible day was turning into one that was alright. The closer Hermione got to Draco, the more tempted she was to ask him a question that had been gnawing at her brain. He was obviously at least somewhat close to Voldemort. What would Draco say if Hermione asked him where he thought Voldemort would hide a possession of great value?

She shook her head; she couldn't trust Draco with that question, at least not yet. "Smells good," she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard his voice come from right behind her.

"Thanks, but it's just steak and kidney pie, nothing special."

While they ate, he stared at her. Her figure was starting to fill out to what it should have been; her bones weren't visible anymore, and this gave him a bit of relief. However, she had dark circles under her eyes, and he realized that she wasn't getting anymore sleep than he was recently. Granted, he had been getting a lot more sleep since he moved out of his family's home, but it still wasn't as much as he should be getting.

When they were both finished, she stood, reaching for his plate, and without warning she felt a sharp brush of consciousness against her own. The walls of her mind slid up faster than they ever had before and she glared at Draco; why would he do that?

"It would seem that you do even better under pressure," he said. Ah, so this was the next step in their Occlumency lessons; unannounced attacks. "It will keep your mind sharp if you're always at least slightly prepared to fend off a Legilimens. From now on, we won't be practicing each evening. Instead, we'll be practicing constantly. Whenever you least expect it, I'll try to enter your mind and you will block me."

Delighted by this new challenge, Hermione smirked, "I'm looking forward to it."

"Bloody hell, I'm tired," he said as he stretched his arms over his head and yawned.

"Then why don't you go to bed? You didn't get much sleep last night. I'm sorry again for my nightmares," she said sheepishly. It embarrassed her to show weakness to anyone, but especially to Draco Malfoy.

"It's fine, you won't have any nightmares tonight," he said with surety.

She looked up at him with confusion in her eyes, "I can't control them, Malfoy."

"You might not be able to, but I can."

"What are you talking about?"

"You said they only come when you don't feel safe while you're sleeping. I'll make sure you feel safe."

"How do you plan on accomplishing that, exactly?"

"You're going to sleep with me tonight."

"WHAT? Are you insane? That would have the exact opposite effect! You're supposed to try to make me feel safe, not make me feel scared out of my bloody mind! Why the hell would you think I would be comfortable sleeping with a _Death Eater_?"

"Let's not have any more preconceived notions, Kitten. We both know that I'm not a Death Eater," Hermione reached across the table and turned his wrist face-up where the Dark Mark stared up at her. She raised her eyebrows, daring him to refute the evidence in plain sight. "Damn it, you know what I mean! Do I act like a Death Eater to you?"

"Well, no," she said at last.

"There's a reason for that. My heart isn't in it anymore. It hasn't been since the beginning of sixth year." He stopped abruptly and Hermione felt as though he wanted to continue.

"What was it like for you that year?"

He eyed her very seriously for a moment and then said, "Get up, we're going to bed." Unable to refuse, she stood and followed him down the hall. She went into her bedroom and put her pajamas on. For a moment she hoped that he wouldn't come for her. That he would just leave her alone. But of course he didn't.

There was a sharp knock and a muffled voice said, "I'm not going to forget about you, Kitten, as soon as you're in your pajamas, come to my room."

With a groan, Hermione found her feet automatically responding to the command. She trotted across the hall into his bedroom. He was already lying shirtless in his bed, and Hermione realized with a start that it was the first time she had ever been in his bedroom. It was…well, it was lovely. The color scheme was comforting because it was a rich red color, accented with white.

There weren't any sentimental items anywhere. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought she was entering a hotel room instead of someone's personal bedroom. "I haven't got all night," he snapped and with a start she realized he was holding up the blanket for her to climb in.

Not seeing any way out of this, she crossed the room, her bare feet making just a hint of noise on the hardwood floor. Very cautiously, she slid into the bed beside him and laid down, resting her head on the pillow. Thankful that his bed was so large, Hermione glanced up to see that it had a bookcase headboard. There were several books there that she hadn't read, and she made a mental note to look into them the next time she got bored.

Her body stiffened when she felt his arm wrap around her waist. He picked up his wand lazily from the headboard, flicked it at the door, which shut with a snap and locked, then flicked it at the torches on the walls and they all went out.

"Couldn't you at least put a shirt on?" she grumbled as he pulled her closer to his side and her cheek brushed against his bare chest.

"Nope," he sounded happy and she scowled. "Goodnight, Kitten," he added a moment later.

"Goodnight, Draco," she whispered into the darkness and fell asleep.

….

**A/N: A lot happened in this chapter. What do you all think? I did a lot of contemplating and came to the conclusion that if there was something beneficial in it for him, Draco would be a nice guy. He's nothing if not selfish, so in order to keep himself happy, he keeps Hermione happy. Makes sense, right? I hope so! It's sort of an impasse, which is why I used that for the chapter title! The next chapter will be about Harry and Ron, so you can all see what they have been up to :D**


	7. Traders, Not Snatchers

**A/N: Short Harry and Ron chapter. I know their chapters can be boring, but they are important! It's essential to know what Ron and Harry are up to while Hermione is with Draco, so bare with me! It will be a while until another Harry and Ron chapter, so lots of Hermione and Draco to come! **

…..

When Harry and Ron had first arrived in London, they had a hurried discussion on where to go. They ended up at a muggle hotel. Harry said that a muggle hotel would be the last place Death Eaters would look for them, and Ron agreed.

Every morning they Confunded the hotel employees into believing that they had paid for the previous night. Their days were spent researching the Ministry. For two days they followed Ministry employees to see how they were getting to work. Security measures had been increased as a result of the last time they had broken into the place.

On the third day, Ron was at his breaking point. Harry couldn't even speak to him without Ron viciously lashing out. Not that Harry blamed him, of course. After all, by this point Hermione could be dead, tortured, in Voldemort's clutches, in Azkaban, or somewhere else just as bad.

"Let's follow her," Harry suggested, pointing to a girl he recognized from his year at Hogwarts. They had followed her once before, and found that she was the least careful person when it came to being sneaky about how she got into the Ministry. Not only did they still have coins, but now they had to present their wands to be checked who the owner was.

"Let's just Stupefy her and get this over with," Ron argued.

"We don't know enough yet, Ron. We have to figure out where they're keeping people who are going to be put on trial."

"This is bullshit, Harry! Let's just go ask my father, he works here for Merlin's sake! He could tell us immediately, he could help us!"

"Damn it, Ron! We talked about this! It would put your entire family in danger to contact them! They're being Tracked by the Ministry!"

"I don't care! This is _Hermione!_" Ron sounded tortured.

Harry sighed sadly, "I know how you feel, but Ron we just can't," by that point, they had been following the dark haired girl for several blocks, staying a safe distance behind. They watched as she entered the Ministry the same way she had the day before (by disappearing into a muggle woman's restroom).

It was a surprise, however, when she appeared again a moment later. Perhaps she had really used the loo that time. After looking around herself suspiciously, she began walking at a brisk pace in the opposite direction. "That's odd…" said Harry. Since he and Ron could not both fit comfortably under the Invisibility Cloak, they had taken Polyjuice potion to turn into two random muggle men.

The suspicious girl darted down a dark alley; Harry and Ron followed. What was she up to? Her dark purple robes billowed around her as she swung down yet another alley and Harry and Ron sped up to catch her. When they rounded the corner, however, a wand was pointed directly at them. "_Expelliarmus!"_ the girl cried. Both of their wands left their hands and she caught them.

"Fuck," Ron growled.

"Why have you been following me yesterday and today? Did the Ministry want me tailed? Tell me," she said it so commandingly that both boys leaned back, away from her. "Don't want to say anything? That's fine. I'll just wait until this Polyjuice potion wears off. _Stupefy!" _Ron and Harry both fell to the ground, stunned.

The girl grabbed hold of both of their hands, spun and disapparated to her house. She lived in a small, but quaint place. The first thing she did was bind them in ropes, throw them in her sitting room and then sent a quick Patronus to the Ministry to let them know that she was sick and could not make it into work that day.

Half an hour later, their faces started to bubble. The girl hadn't said a word, just watched with curiosity as they slowly started to morph back into their true selves. As soon as she realized who they were, she gave a wild cry and leapt to her feet, her entire body shaking. "What the hell are you doing here, Harry fucking Potter?" she sounded more angry than anything else.

Not knowing what else to do, being entirely trapped, he said slowly, "We weren't following you specifically. We were following Ministry officials looking for a way to break into the Ministry."

"Why?" when they did not answer, the girl threw up her hands in exasperation and left the room.

"Do you think she's summoning You-Know-Who?" Ron sounded terrified.

"I don't know," said Harry, who sounded neutral. She came back into the room then with a vial of clear liquid in her hands. Without any warning, she grabbed Harry's face, pried his mouth open and tipped it down his throat.

"Bitch," Ron hissed.

She smirked at him, "Actually, I'm just your average Slytherin," she turned to Harry, "Now why do you want into the Ministry?"

"Don't!" Ron screamed, but Harry couldn't help it.

"Hermione went missing the other day. We think that she was captured by Snatchers and taken to the Ministry for the gold. We were trying to break in to find out."

"If somebody captured Hermione Granger, she wouldn't have been taken to the Ministry," the girl said casually, as if they were discussing the weather.

"We know," said Harry, "but we don't think that she was recognized. Hermione's a very skilled witch. We believe that they caught her, but didn't know who she was, so probably ended up taking her to the Ministry. It's my face being plastered everywhere, not hers."

The witch paced back and forth in front of them, tapping her chin with her hand. "If Hermione Granger was captured, then you're right that she was not recognized."

"Thank Merlin," sighed Ron in relief.

"How do you know that?" asked Harry.

"It would have been all over the _Prophet_. Trust me, that would have been huge news."

"Just fucking great," said Ron after his immediate relief subsided, "now this pureblood bitch knows that Hermione's out there, under the guise of just a regular muggleborn!"

"Hypocrite," said the girl at once.

"Excuse me?" Ron looked murderous.

"You're a pureblood, too. Don't presume to know my where my loyalties lie!"

"So what you're saying is that you're not going to hand us over to You-Know-Who?"

"Merlin, no!" the girl sounded scandalized. "Not all of us want to live in the world the Dark Lord has created, Weasley. I'll help you find her, because Salazar knows that without Hermione Granger, you two would blunder everything up!"

"Oi!"

She smirked, "Well, it's true. You two can stay here at my place for the rest of the day today and tonight. I already sent in a Patronus to work saying that I was sick, so when I go into work first thing tomorrow, I will look through the files of all of the muggleborns who have been caught this week."

"I'm sorry," said Harry, "but I can't remember your name."

She smiled, "It's Daphne. Daphne Greengrass."

The boys didn't even have to return to the hotel; having learned from previous mistakes, they now made sure to always have Hermione's beaded bag on them, along with all of their possessions. Daphne showed them to a spare room, and they settled in.

Not wanting the day to be entirely wasted, Harry and Ron quietly discussed the possibility of breaking into Hogwarts during the summer break. Harry wanted an adequate amount of time to look around, and figured that nobody would be there. The most difficult part would be getting into the castle.

"But we don't even know what we're looking for," said Ron in a hushed whisper. They could hear Daphne singing to herself as she moved around her house, cleaning. Ron was surprised that she did the chores by hand, and she had replied that it helped build character to do things without a wand.

"Something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's. I think it's something that belonged to Ravenclaw because the only known relic that belonged to Gryffindor is the sword, which we have."

Ron's smile was grim, "Wouldn't it be ironic if the sword was a Horcrux?"

Harry gave a weak smile, "That would be ironic, mate, but it's impossible. I've barely put it down for the past two months. We all would have known by now if it had a piece of Voldemort's soul attached to it."

"Fair enough," agreed Ron.

"Okay, so we need to get into Hogsmeade, which will be tricky, and then we can go from there. Walk up to the castle under the Cloak, get a good look at the enchantments around it and see if we can find a weak spot somewhere. Maybe the Whomping Willow will be unprotected. We could get onto the school grounds from the secret passage in Honeydukes."

"As soon as we get Hermione back, we'll go to Hogsmeade."

The following morning dawned bright and sunny. Harry groaned, being reminded of the summer he spent at Privet Drive during the drought. At least now he had Ron. Who was he kidding? He had been happier stuck at the Dursely's without knowing what the hell was going on than he currently was, wondering what was happening to Hermione.

"Alright, boys," said Daphne as she banged open the door of their bedroom, making Ron jump, as he had still been sleeping. Ron hadn't slept a sound night since Hermione had gone missing, but knowing that they were one step closer to finding her, that they had help from inside the Ministry, gave him enough to peace of mind to sleep. "I'm off to work. I'll be home around five," and she left.

Harry and Ron, taking advantage of the time she was out of the house, searched the place. It was true that she did not have a Dark Mark, but that didn't mean anything. They went through her bedroom, the sitting room, the kitchen, the guest room, everywhere she might hide something she didn't want them to see, but nothing came up. As far as they could tell, this girl did not have any connections to Voldemort.

They wandered through muggle London, both of them freezing whenever they saw a girl with brown bushy hair. Several times, Ron had called out to an absolute stranger, "Hermione!" but it was never her.

Daphne returned half an hour earlier than she had anticipated. Harry and Ron were sitting at her kitchen table, drinking tea, when she burst in and threw down a thick file in front of them. Eagerly, they leapt at it, tearing it open and sifting through the files. Most contained photos, others descriptions.

The three of them spent all evening going through every inch of information, but eventually it was clear that Hermione had not been brought to the Ministry. "Is it possible," asked Daphne slowly, "that it wasn't Snatchers who took her?"

"It wasn't Death Eaters," said Harry, who felt his hope fading and yet a part of him was relieved that Hermione had not been brought to the Ministry. "Like you said, it would have been all over the _Prophet_ if they had caught her."

"I'm not talking about those idiots, either," she said snippily. "I'm saying that maybe she was kidnapped by Traders."

"Traders?" asked Ron and Harry together.

"Oh fuck. You two really have been out of the loop for a long time, haven't you? Traders capture mudbloods," she saw the looks on their faces when she said that word, so she quickly backtracked, "You don't understand. That's what everyone calls muggleborns now. And there's a reason for that." She picked up the latest copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and shoved it in their faces.

"I don't see anything," said Harry with a frown as he scanned the headlines.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake! Don't look at the headlines, look at the advertisements!"

Harry's heart sunk at the same moment Ron let slip a few choice swear words. Right there, in the corner of the page were the words, "_Mudbloods for Sale!_"


	8. Good Luck

**A/N: I wasn't going to post another chapter so soon, but decided you all deserved a nice Hermione chapter after the Harry and Ron one. Although this is a bit short, because I hurried up and just cranked it out fast for you! :D review and let me know what you think!**

…

When Hermione woke up, her first thought was how good she felt. Her body and mind were both relaxed, perfectly at peace. On top of that, she was warm and cozy. Smiling to herself, she snuggled deeper into the covers and noticed that she was cuddling into someone's side. That was when she remembered exactly how and where she had fallen asleep the night before.

Her eyes snapped open and she found herself staring at the sleeping form of Draco Malfoy. Sunlight was streaming in through the blinds on the windows, casting a soft glow on both of them. Draco was lying on his back, with one arm under Hermione, around her waist, holding her gently. His hair was mused, sticking up and odd angles and his mouth was slightly open as he breathed deeply.

Hermione had the urge to curse; she couldn't remember the last time she had ever slept so bloody well. She wanted to tell Draco that his idiotic plan hadn't worked, but the opposite was true. She had never slept better. Was it possible that Draco Malfoy made her feel _safe_? It was an absurd thought, but it must be true.

Reaching her hand up to her face, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and yawned. According to the clock on the wall, they had slept until almost noon. Apparently a week of nearly-sleepless nights had taken its toll on both of them. Just then, Draco stirred, moaning in a deep morning voice that made Hermione shiver despite how warm she was.

"Oh," he said as his eyes opened slightly, "Morning, Kitten. No nightmares, I see," his usual smirk appeared on his face and she frowned at him.

"No, I didn't have any nightmares last night. But then I woke up and realized who was next to me I thought I was in the middle of one…"

He chuckled, and her eyes widened. Had he just laughed at a joke she had made at his expense? "Looks to me like we'll have to make this a routine," he said with a yawn.

"Um, first of all, please remove your arm from around my waist," as they moved, her tank top had ridden up and his arm was on her bare back. "Second of all, I would really rather not make this a pattern, Malfoy. I'm sure that now I've broken my string of nightmares, they won't come back."

He was still smirking and it was starting to annoy her, "I'm not willing to take that chance. Unlike you, I actually have to apply myself every day. I have things that I need to be well rested for. I won't have you waking me up like a banshee every morning." She glared at him and he realized that he had absentmindedly been rubbing small circles on the exposed skin of her side.

Frowning, he pulled his arm back before she ripped it off. "Merlin, this isn't fair," Hermione sat up and hugged her knees into her chest, "How is it fair that you can traipse off to school every day and go to Healer training and I'm stuck here cleaning and cooking? I can do so much more than that," her voice shook, "Why do you stuck up purebloods think that I'm so worthless?"

Being half asleep, and taken off guard by her sudden emotions, Draco did the only thing he could think of. He hugged her and said kindly, "I don't think you're worthless, Kitten. I know that you're more than capable of making something of yourself, of doing something with your life that's worthwhile, but it's not going to happen, and I'm sorry for that."

To his surprise, she hugged him back. His immediate response was disgust, but after a moment he noticed how small she felt in his arms; how good her hair smelled (like vanilla and strawberries); how perfect her embrace was. Shaking his head slightly, he pulled back and they smiled timidly at each other. "Thanks, Draco," she said thickly.

"No problem. Now how about breakfast?" he gave her a hopeful grin and she laughed before rolling out of the bed. He watched openly as she stretched, raising her arms above her head, revealing the smallest bit of skin to him, and he was fighting the urge to tell her to get back in the bed before she left the room.

He supposed a cold shower was in order for that morning. When he got out of the shower, he felt energized. This was excellent. He hadn't slept so well since…well, ever. He ruffled a fuzzy towel over his hair, and it came as quite a shock when his own thoughts sunk in. The best night of sleep he had ever had was when Hermione fucking Granger was in his arms. What the hell was wrong with him?

The previous day, she had had to beg him to leave the flat, but now it was him who wanted an escape. He wrenched open drawers, pulled out clothes at random, and slammed them shut. A few minutes later, he was seated at the kitchen table with Hermione eating sausage and biscuits. He noticed with a small sense of pride that she, too, seemed to have more energy than normal and she looked great.

"Kitten," he began and her head snapped up from her plate of food, "We're going to Diagon Alley today. I want to pick up some more potions ingredients. Do you need to pick up anything?" He had debated on having her stay at the flat when he left, but found that he didn't want her to be unhappy, and leaving her behind was a sure way to upset her.

"I don't need anything, no," she replied with a frown.

"Well, here," he tossed a bag of coins to her, "buy whatever you'd like. My only request is that you avoid me while we're there."

Since it had been a request and not a command, she merely nodded with worry. Was he upset with her for something? Surely she couldn't have done anything to upset him. And yet he had a hard time looking at her, and he was eating his breakfast in a way that was almost violent. As soon as they finished eating and she was ready, they left.

Diagon Alley was just as busy as normal, even though it was a random Sunday in mid-July. Hermione went immediately to Flourish and Blotts while Draco sped off in the opposite direction. That was when she thought that perhaps he wasn't avoiding her because he was mad. Maybe he was avoiding her because he had some shady business to do?

In any event, she pushed it from her mind and decided that she would respect his wishes because she _could _and didn't _have _to. If it had been a demand for her to stay away from him, she would have been pissed. But since he had _asked _her, she didn't have much of a problem with it. "Is there anything I can help you with, Miss?" asked the clerk politely.

"Oh, no, thank you, I'm just browsing," said Hermione with a smile. The clerk nodded and Hermione continued looking at the selection of books. Without wanting to appear too suspicious, she picked up only one book on the Dark Arts, one on Occlumency, and two about potions that had caught her interest. After purchasing the books, she walked the short distance to a wizard gift shop and went in.

The place was a quaint little boutique-like place that she found to be soothing. There were candles, stuffed animals, jewelry, and all sorts of other trinkets. Much time was wasted on her picking out just the right thing, but when she finally decided, she purchased the item and continued on her way. Ice cream was an essential thing for her to get while she was there, so she went next to the new parlor and got herself a chocolate ice cream.

"You know, I would let you cover me in chocolate and lick it off," said a deep voice in her ear. Hermione nearly dropped her ice cream as she pulled away and spun around. Blaise Zabini was smirking at her as he reached forward to take a hold of her wrist, "Easy there, _Kitten_."

Randi was standing just being him, and her eyes were sad. When Hermione looked at her, she mouthed the words, '_I'm sorry_.' "Excuse me, Master Zabini," she said with a hint of a sneer, "but I was just doing some shopping for my master and need to be on my way home quickly."

"Oh, well then I'll escort you. Perhaps we could stop by my flat on the way."

"I appreciate the offer," she said, "but no thank you. I really do need to be home. My master told me not to dawdle."

"Trust me, darling, what we would be doing could hardly be considered _dawdling_."

"Still, I'm afraid I have to decline your offer."

"You don't seem to understand, love, but nobody declines my offers."

"Well, I've always been one to break the norm," she said briskly and attempted to walk away, but he gripped her wrist even tighter. She flinched from the amount of pressure he was exerting on her wrist, and when he saw the flinch, his eyes glinted in excitement.

"Release me, Zabini. _Now._"

"Zabini? Didn't you forget the Master part?"

"You are not my master. I will do nothing with you. Now let me go before I cause a scene," she threatened in a low voice. She didn't want to draw attention to herself, but she would gladly do so if he didn't let go of her soon. For a moment, Blaise debated on disapparating with her, but decided against it because he didn't feel safe leaving his slave behind. Not to mention, a part of him felt like he would enjoy this wild mudblood bringing attention to the fact that he was forcing her to his will.

"Go ahead, Kitten. Scream all you want, I like them loud."

She stepped hard on his foot, and in an immediate reaction, he reared back and brought his hand flashing up toward her face, but before it made contact, another, stronger hand grabbed his arm. "Kitten is _my_ mudblood, Blaise," Draco's voice was an icy warning.

"I was just having a bit of fun with her, and the little bint talked back to me. Do you let her talk to us that way, Draco? Do you let your mudblood talk to us in that tone? I hope that when you get her home, you punish her properly."

"What I do with my property is none of your concern. As a matter of fact, I'm more apt to punish you for your actions than her for hers. She is mine and if you ever make any advances toward her again, I will press charges. It's just as illegal to mess with a Marked Mudblood as it is to steal a physical possession. Is that clear, Blaise?"

"Absolutely," Blaise's fiery glare matched Draco's icy gaze and the two battled silently while Randi and Hermione watched with bated breath. Eventually, with one last haughty sneer, Blaise said, "Come, Randi, we're going home."

"Yes, Master," Randi immediately leapt to him and followed close behind him with her head bowed toward the ground.

"Did he hurt you?" Draco asked in a detached sort of way.

"N-no, I'm fine," Hermione said shakily as she rubbed her sore wrist. "What did you mean by a Marked Mudblood?"

"Your bonds," he said, reaching for her hand. When his hand reached toward hers, she involuntarily jerked back in a natural response after what had just taken place with Zabini. "I'm not going to hurt you," he was speaking in a concerned tone that Hermione had never heard him use before, and she trusted him instantly. Of course he wouldn't hurt her, this was Draco.

"My bonds?" she let him take hold of her wrist, which he did with deliberate tenderness. He felt it lightly, and after deciding that nothing was broken, he waved his wand over it and she didn't feel any more pain from it.

"They're considered Marks of ownership. It shows to everyone else that you belong to someone and are therefore, not available. You are off the market, so-to-speak," he inspected his own handy work, and released her hand.

"Thank you," she said.

He jerked his head in acknowledgement of her words and without warning, wrapped a hand around her upper arm and disapparated them back to his flat. When they arrived, Draco disappeared into his room, closing the door behind him. She dimly noted that he didn't have any purchases with him.

When Draco closed the door of his bedroom, he immediately jumped onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He had wanted to get out of the house to clear his head, but it had only resulted in getting more confused. The one thing he was sure of was that he had grown to sincerely care about Hermione. When he had seen Blaise about to strike her, something inside of him snapped and he had never wanted to kill someone more than he did in that moment.

Even if he didn't believe in any of this pureblood mania, even if he truly believed that muggleborns deserved to be treated just like everyone else, he hadn't lied when he told Zabini that Hermione was his. An entirely irrational part of him felt possessive of her in a way that was not controlling or power hungry, but caring and protective.

Draco stayed in his room, dealing with these new emotions for the rest of the day. When he finally emerged, he could smell dinner cooking. Following his nose into the kitchen, he saw that Hermione was in her pajamas already, curled up in a kitchen chair and frowning as she read the latest copy of _The Daily Prophet_.

"Ah, you shouldn't be reading that, Granger," he said quickly. He knew what that paper contained, and it was never good news.

"It says here that a new law was passed," she tried to sound nonchalant, but failed, "apparently it is now illegal for muggleborns to marry a witch or wizard."

"Be thankful it's nothing worse," Draco said wisely as he snatched the paper away from her. He took it swiftly into the sitting room, and Hermione followed curiously. He flung it into the flickering flames of the fireplace and said, "That's what I think of the new laws they're coming up with."

Hermione watched as tongues of the flames licked out at the paper, charring it into unrecognizable ash before returning to the kitchen and finishing dinner. Draco Malfoy, it seemed to her, had finally grown a backbone.

…..

When they went to bed last night, it was even more awkward than the night before. Draco scooted away from her instead of pulling her close. He was wearing a shirt to bed this time, which was odd. "Goodnight, Kitten." He said after flicking his wand to extinguish the lights.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you again, for everything. I know this isn't easy for you, but I'm trying to make the best out of this situation as possible."

He sighed. There was a very pregnant pause before she felt him shift closer to her and his arms snaked around her, pulling her close to him, and her heart jumped into her throat for a moment. She felt his strong toned chest pressed against her back and heard a soft whisper of, "You're doing a fine job, Granger, and you're welcome."

Draco woke up the next morning at seven o'clock. His exam was in one hour. Despite how much he would have loved to have Hermione's breakfast, he wanted to let her sleep. She was taking up much more than half of his bed, lying on her stomach, sprawled out looking like an absurd starfish, wrapped up in the tan sheets of his bed.

After a quiet chuckle, he disentangled himself from his bedding and showered. When he went into the kitchen, he found that there was a note waiting for him on the table. It read, "_Draco, after all you've done for me, I wanted to do something for you. Although I did use your money for it, so in a roundabout way you bought it for yourself. Just the same, it's from me. – Kitten"_

Along with the note was a thick chain that held a charm. The charm was a miniature potions bottle that held fake liquid gold. There was a tiny tag on the neck of the bottle that read, "_Good Luck!"_ Smiling, Draco pulled the chain over his head, tucked the charm under his shirt and left to take his exam.


	9. He Could Save the World

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. It belongs to the brilliant mind of JK Rowling. **

**Language and alcohol use in this chapter. **

**A/N: I AM SO SORRY! I know that I haven't updated in forever and I really do feel awful about it. The good news is that I'm back! The bad news is that I have no idea which story(ies) I will be updating more often. I semi-recently posted the first chapter of another story that I'd like to work on, then there is this one which is not even halfway finished yet, and there is still at least one (possibly two) more chapters of The Dragon Club. I have also been writing more in Becoming A Malfoy, I just haven't posted it yet. Without further ado, here is the next chapter in Mudbloods For Sale!**

…

Hermione woke up the moment Draco left the apartment. There was an emptiness around her that it took her a moment to place. She had gotten used to Draco's presence just like she had gotten used to Harry's and Ron's presences. Was this the same prat who had tried to have Buckbeak executed? The same bastard who had stood by and watched Bellatrix torture her? The same wizard who had tried to _Crucio_ Harry and kill Dumbledore?

Of course, Hermione knew Harry's feelings on the issue. To some extent, Harry had grown a small soft spot for Draco after hearing the exchange between Dumbledore and Draco in the Astronomy Tower that fateful evening. Dumbledore seemed to think that given the chance, Slytherin's Prince could actually be a good person. He even offered him protection from the Order of the Phoenix.

Did he have the potential to be good? Hermione wasn't sure. Every day she saw the Dark Mark on his arm and had these confusing thoughts. Who was he really? Which side of him was the real side and which side was the fake front? She didn't know.

After getting up and going to the kitchen, Hermione found that she missed listening to his absurd radio station, so she flicked it on and danced around the kitchen while making breakfast. As soon as she was ready, she went to Diagon Alley. She did a bit of shopping with Draco's money and then returned home.

This really was her home now, wasn't it? One week there and she had already accepted the horrid fact. Perhaps Draco was right. Maybe Harry and Ron would spend the rest of their lives in hiding and she would spend the rest of hers as Malfoy's slave. If that was the case, then she had to make the best out of the situation. Putting on a brave face, she emptied all of the packages she had bought from Diagon Alley and got to work.

…

When Draco came home, his first thought was that he had entered the wrong apartment because it smelled different. Almost like flowers and strawberries. That was when he noticed that there were in fact several vases of flowers around.

There were slightly feminine touches that had not been there before; a picture frame here, a decorative vase there, a few scented candles were lit on the mantel of the fireplace, and another rug had been added to the room, just inside the door, beside a brand new coat rack.

"Kitten?" he asked in confusion as he kicked off his shoes and made his way into the kitchen. She was in there, of course, cooking dinner, with the radio on. He almost laughed at the sight. She had certainly made herself at home, hadn't she? There was a brand new table cloth on his previously naked table, and several new additions to the kitchen such as a napkin holder, a bowl of fruit, and were those magnets on the refrigerator?

"Oh, hi!" she spun around, smiling, holding a steaming plate of broccoli, "how did your exam go?"

Draco stared at her without blinking. This entire thing felt surreal. Hermione Granger had never struck him as the homey type of woman. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not, but he knew it was strange. "What did you do?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"I fixed the place up a bit. I hope you don't mind, but I figured since, you know, my entire life will be revolving around this place, I might as well make it semi-livable. I'm Hermione Granger, after all, I don't do anything half-assed." To Draco, everything was now clear. Hermione Granger was a versatile woman, and was bound and determined to make whatever situation she was in the best she could. If she was put into the role of housekeeper, then she would be the best housekeeper she could, even if she hated every moment of it. Damn that girl was stubborn.

"Actually," he corrected as he plucked a few grapes from the bowl of fruit she had set out, "You're legally Kitten Malfoy." Hermione dropped the plate of broccoli, and it shattered. "Damn it, Kitten!" he growled as he pulled his wand from his pocket. He flicked it and the platter put itself back together, all of the broccoli returned to the plate, and it went soaring back into Hermione's hands.

"I knew my name had legally been changed," she acknowledged numbly, "but my surname as well? You're just yanking my wand, right?" she tried weakly. Oh please, sweet Merlin, don't let her surname be Malfoy!

"I'm not joking. I thought you knew," he said with a shrug. She pursed her lips, took a deep calming breath, and continued making dinner. Trying to distract her from her newfound piece of information, he cleared his throat awkwardly and said, "My exam went shockingly well. I received an O. Thank you, by the way, for the gift."

"Oh, I'd forgotten about that. You're welcome. It really is charmed, you know. Nothing to the extent of making it illegal, like actual Felix Felicis, just enough to bring you a bit of extra luck."

"Well I very much appreciate it," he said while he moved around the table and took a seat. She gave him a reluctant smile and started putting dishes on the table.

…

Hermione ended up going to Diagon Alley every day that week, with Draco's consent, of course. Sometimes she would wander through muggle London, but would always end up back in Diagon Alley because that was where she felt the most comfortable. Even with how dark it seemed and how it wasn't at all the place she remembered it as an eleven year old girl, it was still familiar to her.

It was Friday afternoon. Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood were wandering through Diagon Alley. He was scowling and she was humming to herself as the pair made their way to Flourish and Blotts. After Luna Lovegood had escaped from Malfoy Manor, the Death Eaters didn't care about capturing her again, because they had accomplished their goal; her father no longer openly supported Harry Potter with his magazine.

Each day that went by, Neville was more and more anxious. Something felt different about today, like the monotony would finally be broken, but he didn't know how. It had been months since Harry Potter had been sighted. How were his friends? Were they in danger? Did they need him? He wished he had some way of assisting them, but knew these thoughts were hopeless.

"Oh, look!" said Luna, pointing toward a girl who was seated at an outside table, just in front of the bookstore, reading contentedly. "It's Hermione," she said fondly.

Neville sighed. He wished it was, but there was no way this girl was Hermione Granger. Her hair was short, almost chin length, poker straight, and not as dark as Hermione's. Not to mention the face looked nothing like Hermione's. "Luna, that's not Hermione. Look at that girl's bonds. She's just another muggleborn slave," he said the last two words in a low growl.

Trying to not draw attention to her friend, Luna grabbed a hold of Neville's hand and dragged him over to the girl. "Hullo, Hermione," said Luna very softly. Hermione's head snapped up, her eyes wide and nearly dropped her book at the sight. Neville standing awkwardly, just behind Luna, with an apologetic look on his face, and Luna simply beaming.

"I'm sorry," said Neville, "we thought you were someone else."

"What are you talking about?" asked Luna casually, "I know perfectly well who she is. What happened to you, Hermione? Who owns you?" Luna gingerly touched the green ribbons, but Draco's initials were on the other side, unseen by Luna.

Looking even more embarrassed, Neville said again, "Sorry, she's a bit confused."

"Actually," said Hermione, "she's right. It's me, Neville."

Luna's smile widened even more, and Neville dropped down into an open seat at the small table. "Blimey," he breathed, "What happened, Mione? Where are Harry and Ron? Are you just pretending to be a slave for some reason? What's going on?"

Hermione cast around a few nervous glances and whispered, "Not here," she stood up, the others followed, and she took them to Draco's flat. "This is where I live now," she said when they reached the apartment. They went inside, and Hermione led them into the kitchen, where they all sat. "I am a slave," she said holding up her wrists for emphasis, "I was captured, but Harry and Ron are still out there somewhere."

"Oh no," groaned Neville, dropping his head into his hands, "I'm so sorry, Hermione, so sorry," he sounded on the verge of sobs, "if I had known you had been caught by Traders, I would have bought you." The sincere sentiment made Hermione smile at him fondly.

"I'm alright here. He's not so bad."

"He?" asked Neville, who had been hoping against all odds that it had been a girl who had purchased Hermione to be nothing more than a housekeeper. But if it was a man who owned his friend, then Neville knew what purposes she was serving here.

"Oh, yes," said Luna conversationally, "This is Draco Malfoy's flat."

"How did you know that?" asked Hermione, looking thunderstruck.

"It's a bit obvious, don't you think?" Luna was looking around the kitchen fondly, "though there are some of your own touches around as well. How long have you been here?"

"Almost two weeks."

"Draco bloody Malfoy bought you?" Neville's hands were gripping the edge of the table hard.

"It's like I just said, Neville, he's not so bad. Not really," she amended, flinching at the conviction in her own voice. It wasn't at all that she liked her situation, but in the grand scheme of things it was far better than she could've hoped for.

"Oh, sure," said Neville angrily, "I'm sure he's a perfect gentleman with you all the time. I bet he really respects you and treats you like you an actual witch," he sneered.

"He…well, he does his best," she told them while wringing her hands. Inside, she was thankful that she had replaced the portrait of Draco that had been hanging over the fireplace with a portrait of a serene countryside. She didn't want to know what her friends would think of him if they'd seen how vain he was in his own home.

Neville looked at her quizzically for a few moments. It was Luna, however, who said quietly, "He always did."

"What?" asked Neville and Hermione together.

"Draco Malfoy," Luna explained, "he always did his best. Even if his best was lacking in several ways. I would imagine his parents were too big of an influence in his life for him to have an open mind. Or a mind for himself at all. He's always been a bit of a follower, hasn't he?"

"Do you know much about the Malfoy family?" Hermione wondered.

"Oh, yes," said Luna, "My mother was a Malfoy."

"What?" Neville looked at Luna for a moment as though he had never seen her clearly before.

"Her name was Luna, too. Luna Malfoy. Her brother was Draco's father."

"That makes Draco…your cousin?"

"Yes, though I don't think he knows about that," Luna tapped her chin thoughtfully. At the look of confusion on her friends faces, she continued, "My mother was disowned for marrying my father, who was called a blood traitor. Of course, even if she had not married my father she probably would have been disowned at some point anyway. She used to tell me that the Malfoy family had no room for imagination and no tolerance for those who are open-minded; like my mum. Legally, in all ministry records, her name has been taken out of anything associated with the Malfoy family."

Several minutes of shocked silence followed, and then Neville said, "Well, that explains your blonde hair."

Luna laughed much too loudly for much too long, making both Neville and Hermione feel awkwardly uncomfortable. "It's so nice to be back around friends. No offense, Neville, but you have been very down lately. It hasn't been a pleasure to be in your company recently as much as it has been before."

"I'm sorry," Neville frowned. He hadn't realized how much his mood had affected his best friend.

"It's quite alright, that's what friends are for, aren't they?" Luna smiled at him and placed her hand over his, "We'll stick together through the good and the bad."

"Luna?"asked Hermione, "Why did you leave Shell Cottage?" Hermione had only just remembered that the last time she'd seen Luna was the night before they'd broken into Gringotts.

"The Wizarding World considers the war to be over. There's no use hiding. I'm not spending my life locked up in a cottage. After news spread about your escapade in the bank, I waited until summer and then set out to find what sort of life I could make for myself."

"Is your father….did Mr. Lovegood….how is he?" Hermione could hardly ask the question.

"We don't speak," there was a sudden steal in Luna's eyes that had never been there before. "He's alright, I imagine, still living at home printing the type of rubbish the Ministry wants him to print. He only stopped supporting Harry to keep me safe, and as a result he lost me anyway. I don't care if he's my father. I want nothing to do with anyone who doesn't support Harry Potter, because if he doesn't support Harry Potter, then he doesn't support me!"

She burst into sudden sobs, her entire body quaking as she slumped forward and buried her face into her arms. "She's been living with me," Neville whispered as he gently pat her back, "we have a flat not too far from Diagon Alley, in a muggle part of London. My Gran is in hiding. I get letters from her occasionally, but after a few letters from her I realized that there isn't anything I can do to help if I'm on the run as well, so I've been doing my best to blend in with the new Wizard regime on the outside, but underground I'm still fighting. I make regular appearances on Potterwatch, and what remains of the Order has been sending me to do a few spy missions," he puffed out his chest proudly, "A lot of information that I've gathered has managed to save lives."

"That's great, Neville," said Hermione sincerely. The news she was hearing from her friends was bittersweet. Their words were both troubling and comforting.

"Right," he clapped his hands together importantly, "Now let's work on a way of getting you out of here!"

"Oh, no you don't, Longbottom." Draco Malfoy was standing in the doorway, looking a mixture of shocked and angry. "What are you and Looney doing here, anyway? How did you get in? More importantly, _why are you talking to MY mudblood_?"

Neville rounded on Draco and moved for his wand, growling, "Hermione does not belong to you! She belongs to no one! She is a human being, Malfoy, just like you and just like me! More so, she is a _witch_, and you will treat her with the respect she deserves as an individual or so help me, Merlin, I will kill you where you stand!"

"Down there, Longbottom," said Draco with his familiar drawl, "how did you find her? I forbade her from contacting anyone."

"I didn't contact him," Hermione intervened, "he contacted me."

"What? How was that possible? If someone doesn't start explaining what happened, I'm going to get really pissed off."

"I don't really understand it myself," said Hermione, "I swear, Draco, I was just sitting in Diagon Alley minding my own business when they approached me and knew who I was. Er, at least, Luna knew who I was."

"She's Luna," said Neville with a hint of exasperation, his eyes never leaving Draco's face, "she has a way of seeing people for what and who they truly are."

"Thank you," said Luna, accepting the compliment with odd grace.

"If you tell anyone who she is, I will not hesitate to kill both of you," said Draco casually as he crossed the kitchen and poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "Fuck!" his anger was starting to crack through his careful façade.

"You should both go," said Hermione at once, ushering Luna and Neville out of the kitchen and toward the front door of the flat.

"Not without you!" Neville argued.

"Come, Neville," said Luna, taking his arm, "Hermione doesn't need our help. Draco isn't hurting her, and he won't hurt her. We will have other opportunities to help her when she needs us."

Wanting to argue, but trusting his best friend, Neville allowed himself to be pulled out of the flat. Hermione closed the door behind them and turned to face Draco's wrath.

"DAMN IT, GRANGER! DO YOU REALIZE THAT THE MORE PEOPLE WHO KNOW ABOUT OUR SITUATION, THE MORE LIKELY IT IS THAT THE WRONG PEOPLE WILL FIND OUT?" Hermione flinched under his anger, but remained silent, taking the reprimand and the lecture as if this was all her fault, "I SAVED YOU FROM THE DARK LORD, I TOOK YOU IN, I HAVEN'T LAID A FUCKING FINGER ON YOU DESPITE THE FACT THAT I…..THAT I COULD! I'VE NEVER HURT YOU, AS A MATTER OF FACT, I HAVE BEEN FUCKING GREAT TO YOU! YOU SHOULD BE ON YOUR KNEES THANKING ME, BUT INSTEAD YOU KEEP PUTTING BOTH OF OUR FUCKING LIVES IN JEOPARDY BECAUSE YOU KEEP FUCKING TELLING PEOPLE WHO YOU ARE! MERLIN, GRANGER, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE INTELLIGENT YOU STUPID TWAT!"

Draco paced in front of the fireplace, breathing heavily and grabbing fistfuls of his hair. After a moment of silence, Hermione spoke calmly "It's never been my fault, Draco. Severus used legillimancy against me, and Luna just _knew_."

"That doesn't change the fact that they know! Every day this…this arrangement between us becomes riskier! What are we thinking? What am I thinking?" he dropped down onto the sofa and flung an arm over his face.

"Stop being so overdramatic, Malfoy. Grow a pair and man-up, because this is life, you stupid prat, and it's not going to be easy."

He peeked out at her from behind the shield of his arm and said quietly, "Did you seriously just tell me to grow some balls?" She smiled timidly, and very slowly a smirk stretched across his face as well. Their grins quickly escalated into soft giggles and they stared at each other for a long moment.

"Yes, I did. Also, I can answer your question. What you are thinking is that you can help us. Draco, you could help save the entire Wizarding World!"

Draco's expression immediately soured. He looked as though he had swallowed something rather unpleasant. Yes, he thought to himself, he could help save the entire Wizarding World….but betray his own family in the process.

…

"Stupid bloody Granger," Draco Malfoy mumbled to himself as he threw back another glass of firewhiskey while locked in his bedroom alone, "Stupid bloody Potter," down went another shot of alcohol. "Stupid bloody war!" he shouted the last word and lifted his glass toward the ceiling while reaching for the bottle with his other hand.

His hand fumbled on his dresser and knocked the bottle over. Firewhiskey spilled all over the mahogany surface, down the set of drawers, and pooled onto the floor. "DAMN IT!" the words rang loudly through his entire apartment.

Hermione stood just on the other side of the door, wincing as she heard him scream. He'd been in there drinking alone all evening. It was getting rather late and she was tired. Perhaps she would go sleep in her own bed, just for tonight. Perhaps if he was _very _hung over in the morning her screams wouldn't wake him.

Just then the door swung inward and there stood an extremely disheveled Draco Malfoy, with a crazed look in his eyes, "KITTEN!" he screamed, looking straight over her.

"I'm right here, Draco, no need to shout," said Hermione as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Oh, right, well get your arse in here!" he grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her into the room. He let her go so abruptly that she almost fell to the floor. By the time she regained her balance, Draco was on the opposite side of the room staring at her very pointedly. "Well," he said with a drawl, "clean it up!" he motioned to the spilled bottle of firewhiskey, "I can't even see straight, let alone cast a fucking spell!" He tossed her his wand.

Hermione reacted instinctively. She knew, logically, that she could not touch his wand. That if she did, bad things would happen, but without thinking her hand flung out and grasped hold of the thin piece of wood. Instantly her mind registered intense pain emanating from her hand. She dropped the wand with a pained gasp and watched with shock as her palm immediately blistered from the intense burn.

"Oh fuck! I'm sorry, Kitten," Draco stumbled over to her and picked up his wand. Without a word, Hermione retreated to the kitchen and Draco drunkenly followed. She pulled several vials of potion out of the cupboard before finding the one she was looking for.

"You'll have to pull the stopper out yourself, I can't do it with my injured hand, but you drink that and I'll see if I can find some essence of murtlap anywhere."

"What is it?" asked Draco as he sniffed tentatively at the uncorked bottle.

"Sober-up potion. You need it." Draco downed it the exact same way he had downed half a bottle of firewhiskey. He winced at the taste and texture as it slid down his throat, but after a few moments he was entirely clear-headed.

Once he could think properly again, he turned to Hermione and saw that she was indeed pouring essence of murtlap into an empty dish. "Here," he waved his wand over her hand, the blisters were gone. He had fixed her, again.

"Thank you," she looked at him with a strange expression, "You were going to let me use your wand."

"Yes, I wasn't thinking very clearly, was I? I apologize, Kitten, I forgot that it would burn you."

"No, no, you're missing the point," she stared at him very intensely, as if she were trying to see into his soul, "You were going to let me use your wand."

He knew then what she meant. Even though the words remained unspoken between them, they both knew. He respected her, and more than that, he trusted her.


	10. Draco's Discovery

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

**Warning: Scenes of a mild sexual nature and language in this chapter.**

…**..**

Hermione woke with a start. At first she wasn't sure what woke her, but then she realized that Draco was holding her much too tightly. He had one arm under her, like always, jutting into her ribcage. The other hand, however, was on her hip and his long fingers were gripping her forcefully.

She was lying on her side, facing away from him, but he was pressed against her back, his mouth less than an inch from her ear, and in a much too intimate position. The only person she had ever slept with quite like this was Ron. Even then it only happened occasionally, when they knew Harry was already asleep.

A moment after she woke, Draco moaned, his breath hot in her ear, making her shiver in ways that were both good and bad. When he moaned, his fingers flexed against her hip, holding her to him. Her first thought was that he was the one having a nightmare this time.

Before that thought even fully registered, he moaned again, this time it was a name, "Kitten," and Hermione froze. Was he really having a nightmare? Surely he wasn't having a dirty dream…not about _her_?

"Ma-Malfoy," she stuttered in surprise.

"Mmm," he groaned low in this throat, and _thrust his hips into her_. Hermione squealed very quietly and tried to gently pull out of his embrace. This, however, was much more difficult than she had expected. They had been sleeping in the same bed for many nights now and Hermione Granger was not an idiot. She knew that most men woke up in the morning physically turned on, and whenever that happened, she had tried to politely ignore it.

She never intended to ever feel it intimately pressed against her bum as she slept. Every time she moved to pull further away, Draco moved to pull her closer. "Hermione," he whispered breathily and she froze. _Never_ had he ever used her first name. Then, without any warning, he nipped her neck.

That time, when shivers ran through her body, they were _all_ good shivers. Silently damning her body for betraying her mind and heart, she very deliberately squirmed around so that she was facing him, took his face in her hands and said with determination, "Malfoy, you will wake up. Right. Now. Or so help me I will slap you!"

"mmhfgkl," he grumbled and locked his arms around her.

SLAP!

Draco jerked awake, not even feeling his stinging cheek. He was still in his dream, in which he was in bed with Hermione, and she was writhing in pleasure beneath him, as he….wait. He was awake now. And he really was in bed with Hermione. Except the real Hermione was not writhing in pleasure at the things he was doing to her. Oh, no, the real Hermione was glaring at him, her hand poised ready for another slap, and her body was practically melded to his own through all of the layers of clothing.

"Shit," he cursed and released her. Hermione rolled over to her half of the bed, huffing slightly with indignation. "What happened, Granger?"

"What happened," she replied scathingly, her cheeks burning red, "is that you woke me up by holding me so tightly I thought I was going to suffocate."

"Did I….um, say anything?"

"…No," she lied on impulse. Lying to him seemed a much better option than admitting the truth, "Not tonight anyway."

"What do you mean not tonight anyway?"

"You must know that you talk in your sleep sometimes, Draco. But not tonight. It was just clutching to me as if you were drowning and I was your bloody life raft! Merlin, what were you having a nightmare about?" she successfully bluffed her way out of an awkward situation.

"I was…it was….I don't want to talk about it," he grumbled.

"Alright, well I'm going back to sleep. Do try to stay on your own side of the bed, won't you?"

"Yeah, alright," he didn't even argue! Hermione figured he must've been just as traumatized by his own dream as she was. It wasn't like Malfoy to take her nagging on him with such ease.

As Malfoy rolled to face away from her and punched his pillow into a fluffier position, he couldn't help but go over every detail of his dream again in his mind. What bothered him the most, more than anything, was how he _wasn't _bothered by the dream. At all.

It had been two weeks since the incident where she burned her hand grabbing his wand. Two weeks of near silence between the two of them. Both knew that they were starting to form an odd sort of friendship from their camaraderie and neither of them knew how to feel about it. As a result, they barely spoke except when they had to.

Yet even when they weren't speaking, they were still sharing moments together. They were still growing closer together. Draco had learned more about Hermione in the past two weeks than he had the whole six years they had been in school together. The way she preferred raspberry jam on her toast, the way she rested her chin on her knee when she was reading on the couch, the way she would always hum quietly as she brewed up potions in the kitchen, and so much more. It seemed when they weren't being distracted by words, they paid more attention to each other's habits.

Likewise, Hermione had gotten much closer to Draco despite the distance they were trying to put between them. She liked the way he always stoked the fireplace so that there were never just embers, but always blazing flames, and she noticed the way he always enjoyed softer classical music in the evenings compared to the annoying radio station he listened to in the mornings. She took notice of how he only shaved on Mondays and Thursdays, and how he preferred to wear muggle jeans in his leisure time.

Yes, the two of them had become friends despite how much they had both tried not to. Hermione knew this, and was ready to admit it, but Draco was not. Just the night before he had the risqué dream, she had offered to help him study, but he had refused and retreated to his bedroom.

When Hermione woke again, it was light out and Draco was standing beside her, straightening his tie. "Going to make breakfast?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Well, I would, but I didn't get much sleep last night because some git kept waking me up while he slept. First it was with nightmares, then he kept mumbling something about raspberry jam."

Draco frowned; he had dreamed of her all night, and not always in an entirely sexual way. "Yes, well, that doesn't mean that the bloke isn't hungry. So get your arse in the kitchen and make him breakfast before he has to leave for class."

She looked up at him dolefully and asked, "Are we really sitting here talking about you in the third person?"

"Yes, we are."

She laughed and sat up, "Alright, I'll make your bloody breakfast." Yawning, she got up and made her way out of the bedroom. Behind her, Draco kept his eyes locked on her arse as she sashayed her way toward the kitchen.

After Draco left, Hermione got dressed and made her way toward Diagon Alley. She had only run into Neville and Luna once since they had originally discovered her as Malfoy's slave, but she always kept her eye out for them. None of them had any way to contact Harry and Ron. Neville had made a point to stop by The Burrow, which was under a Fidelius Charm, but upon his arrival at their home, Arthur Weasley had stepped outside the parameters of the Charm and let Neville in.

However, much to everyone's dismay, nobody had heard anything from Ron or Harry. Neville did not divulge what he knew of Hermione. He had made it sound as though she were still with Harry and Ron, wherever they were.

Hermione sighed as she stepped into the familiar alley. She didn't like not speaking to Draco, if she were being honest with herself. Her days were often very lonely. She couldn't speak to anyone in Diagon Alley; the purebloods wouldn't talk to her because they didn't consider her worthy enough to speak to them, the half-bloods were too afraid to speak to mudbloods, and other mudbloods were usually accompanied by their masters.

Although the time in which she had spent avoiding Draco had not been an entire waste of time on Hermione's part. She had read through a few books which she had bought from Diagon Alley on the Dark Arts, and also a few that she had found in Draco's flat. She hadn't learned much that she didn't already know, but she did have one fact confirmed by three different books; there were only two definite ways to kill a horcrux; basilisk venom and fiendfyre.

Neither of which would be likely for Hermione to get a hold of. There were a few other substances, equally as dangerous, that would probably work to kill the horcrux but had not been tried yet to know for sure. One of those things was a relatively new potion in which one of the ingredients was basilisk venom.

That was why she was here. Hermione tried the apothecary first, but they didn't carry anything as dangerous as Basilisk venom. She knew then that she would have to venture down Knockturn Alley and pray she wasn't killed by a pureblood for it.

After three failed attempts at finding the substance in Knockturn Alley (she had tried a man on the street who was dealing illegal potions, Borgin and Burkes because they seemed to carry every Dark thing in existence, and a drab looking apothecary) she finally found it. She was in a little potions shop that was filled with such gruesome (and often illegal) potions that Hermione didn't even feel comfortable to be inside of this shop.

"Excuse me," she said carefully as she pulled subconsciously on her long sleeves, which hid her bonds, "Do you sell Basilisk venom here?"

"As a matter of fact, young lady, we do," He was an intimidating looking older gentleman with a full head of gray hair and several missing teeth. He grinned down at her and she wasn't sure if he was attempting to look friendly and failing or if he was purposefully trying to scare her.

"How much does it cost?" She asked haughtily as she rummaged in her pocket for her bag of coins.

"That depends on who's asking," the man replied, leaning over the counter toward her.

"Excuse me? I wasn't aware that I would need to give my name in order to buy anything from here."

"Not your name, lass, your blood status," he said the words with relish.

Lying through her pretty teeth, Hermione lifted her shoulders and spat angrily, "Pureblood!"

"Is that so?" he asked, while stroking his chin. He contemplated her for a moment before saying, "Alright then, that will be fifty galleons per ounce." Hermione winced. She wasn't sure she had enough for even one ounce, and she would need much more than that, certainly.

"I don't normally carry that much money on my person," she said evasively, "I will go visit Gringotts and then come back."

"Hold on there, lass," he said, "how much have you got on you? Perhaps we could strike a bargain. Basilisk venom is dangerous stuff, and illegal to carry. I'd be happy for you to take it off my hands." He motioned greedily toward her coin purse.

Sighing, she counted the coins and told him, "I have thirty-eight galleons and I would like at least twelve ounces of basilisk venom." Would Draco give her 600 galleons with no explanation as to what it was being used for?

He stroked his chin thoughtfully and then said, "Alright, how about thirty-eight galleons for five ounces? But that's a one-time offer only! If you leave to go to the bank and then come back, the price will be right back up to fifty galleons an ounce! I'm not normally this generous of a man, mind."

"Alright," Hermione agreed, "Thirty-eight galleons for five ounces," she held out the entire contents of her money pouch to him, and he reached for it. Before he grabbed it, however, he took hold of her arm and wrenched up the sleeve of her shirt.

"I knew it!" he growled, "Knew you weren't a pureblood the moment you walked through that door! Stink like a mudblood, you do," he told her with disgust as he wrinkled his nose.

"Listen," she said scathingly, "My master sent me in here to buy this for him and if I come home without it, I'll be in big trouble!"

"If your master sent you in here for Basilisk venom, I'll eat my hat! He should know that only purebloods can buy important things. Who did you say your master was, anyway?"

"I-I didn't," she stuttered as she pulled her arm back and tucked her galleons back into her pocket.

"Saw the initials on your bonds, lass. DLM wouldn't happen to stand for Draco Lucius Malfoy, would it?" She only glared at him without saying a word. "You go back and tell little Draco that if he wants Basilisk venom he can come in here and buy it for himself like a grown wizard!"

Recognizing the dismissal, Hermione held her head high as she turned and walked out of the shop. That had been a complete fiasco. It was worse than when she had attempted to buy a wand!

Defeated, she returned home angry and discouraged. If she could get a hold of Basilisk venom then perhaps she could transfer it to the possession of Neville, and he could perhaps pass it on to the Weasley's and Hermione was certain that at some point, Ron and Harry would contact the Weasley's and then they would have the venom!

Again, her mind played through the day when they had finally got the cup of Helga Hufflepuff. How they had escaped Gringotts on a dragon, but Griphook escaped with the sword of Gryffindor; their only weapon against horcruxes. To think! She had been so close to the substance they so badly needed.

Screaming in frustration, she threw herself onto the sofa and started to cry. She hadn't cried in a long time. Oppositely, she had come to find contentment and even occasional happiness in her situation. Even if it wasn't ideal, it was up to her to make the best of it. If this was going to be her life forever, which she refused to accept, then she at least wanted it to be a happy one.

Wanting to work out some of her frustration in a healthier way than pouting and crying, Hermione went to her bedroom and changed into yoga pants and a sports bra. Draco hadn't been able to comprehend how on earth she'd spent so much money on clothes, but he hadn't realized how many different types of clothes women needed. Especially muggleborn witches. Hermione had wanted not only witches clothing but also several types of muggle clothing as well.

Normally at home she would use a work out video and follow along, but that was simply not an option now. Even if Draco had a telly, it wouldn't work in a wizard apartment complex. Instead she did all of the moves she could from memory, throwing all of her anger into every punch and kick. Exhausted, she drank several glasses of water and then fell asleep on the couch.

That was how Draco found her when he arrived home that afternoon. Sprawled out on the couch scantily clad and slightly sweaty. He swallowed hard, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. This definitely wasn't what he wanted to find the day after he'd had such an explicit dream about the woman before him.

Awkwardly, he cleared his throat and she blinked a few times before fully opening her eyes. Looking up at him with a smile she said, "Hi, how was your day?"

"My day was fine," he said curtly, "I was just, erm, wondering when you were planning on putting on an adequate amount of clothing?"

Hermione looked at herself, let out a laugh, and asked, "What?"

"I mean, um, dinner, why aren't you cooking dinner? Because I definitely was not commenting on your lack of clothing."

Hermione laughed and it was such a nice thing to do after the day she had had. "I'll get right on that," she teased and jumped up and sprinted to the kitchen.

"You seem to be full of energy today."

"Yes, I did a work out."

"You did a what?"

"A work out. It's a sort of muggle way to exercise. You just punch and kick a lot."

"What did you punch and kick?" he asked, sounding more curious than anything.

"The air," she said with a smile.

"I'd like to see that sometime. Who knew Hermione Granger was such a badass that she even beat up oxygen?"

"You know," said Hermione as she gazed in the cupboards, "why don't we just order a pizza? I miss pizza."

"Order a what?"

Hermione sighed, but not quite out of exasperation. "It would have been so much more beneficial for me if you had taken Muggle Studies in school. A pizza, Draco, is a type of Italian food with bread, cheese, sauce, and just about anything else you want on it."

"Sounds disgusting."

"It's delicious. You stay here, and I'll run up to the pizzeria on the corner, just a few blocks down, and I'll be right back with your precious dinner."

"Would I….can I…I am going to accompany you."

"Alright," Hermione ran to her room and pulled on a t-shirt over her sports bra, "Let's be off then."

Hermione was so amused by how uncomfortable Draco was in the pizzeria that she announced they were eating there. When they sat down and waited for the pizza to be delivered, Draco kept looking over his shoulder as if he expected You-Know-Who himself to walk through the door and find Draco in a muggle restaurant.

"Oh, relax and have a good time," said Hermione, who was enjoying his torment in a twisted way.

"I should probably mention that I received an owl today regarding you. I swear, witch, if I receive another owl about your strange behavior while you're out, I won't let you out anymore." They both knew it was an empty threat, but it still stung.

"What did the owl say?"

"Basilisk venom?" he asked in exasperation, "You really thought you could buy Basilisk venom? What did you want it for anyway?"

"A potion that I'd read about. I wanted to attempt to brew some up, but the apothecary didn't carry Basilisk venom, so I had to venture down Knockturn Alley," she explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "What _exactly_ did the owl say?"

"All the shop owner wrote was that a mudblood was in his store looking to buy Basilisk venom, said it was for her master, but he didn't sell it to her and was worried that the mudblood was going to attempt to poison her master."

"Did you reply?"

"I did indeed. I laughed and immediately wrote back that if my mudblood wanted me dead, then I would be dead. Also, so as to not incriminate you, I wrote that I had expressed the desire to attain Basilisk venom, and that you, as a loyally devoted slave, attempted to procure some for me as a gesture of your devotion."

Hermione faked throwing up, Draco laughed, and their pizza arrived. When the waiter set it down in front of them, Draco's face was absolutely priceless. He looked for a moment as if he would prefer eating hippogriff dung to this monstrosity.

Hermione helped herself to a huge slice before realizing that Draco was not doing the same. Bravely, she snatched his plate, put a large slice of pizza on it and handed it back to him saying, "Eat it before it gets cold. You'll like it, I promise."

Timidly, he took a bite. "This…" he said while still chewing, "is a lot better than I thought it would be."

Then there was no more room for talking. Draco ate almost the entire pizza on his own, barely taking a breath between bites. "Merlin," he moaned fifteen minutes later, "why didn't I ever stop by this place before?"

"Oh, I don't know," Hermione teased, "maybe because you were afraid of being caught in a muggle place."

"Judging by this pizza alone, I would say muggles are alright in my book," he winked at her and leaned back in his chair, looking exceptionally satisfied.

Full and content, Hermione went to bed early that evening, glad that she had finally made a bit of progress with Draco. They had gone into a muggle restaurant. He enjoyed going to the muggle restaurant. They had an actual full conversation that wasn't awkward or strained. They were, whether he wanted to admit it or not, friends.

After she went to bed, Draco searched the entire apartment, even using _Accio_ a few times, for every potions book in his flat. Once they were all in a pile on his desk, he went through each and every one. Not one of them required Basilisk venom for any of the potions in them.

Draco didn't think that Hermione had lied to him. Perhaps the potion wasn't in a potions book. Often times potions were included in other books. Salivating with curiosity, Draco went into Hermione's room and looked around again. He searched both by hand and by magic until he was sure he had procured every book she had bought on her own that didn't belong to Draco.

Starting off with the most likely place he would find Basilisk venom (_Magical Beast Saliva and How it Can Help You) _he worked his way through the books. When he finally found it, a potion that called for copious amounts of Basilisk venom he nearly dropped the book.

The potion was for killing people or powerfully strong magical objects. Knowing that Hermione had no intention of killing anyone (except possibly the Dark Lord, and he could not be killed as something as simple as poison), he skimmed the exceptionally short list of items that the potion was meant to destroy. His eyes settled on one in particular that stood out from the rest. Horcrux.

What was Hermione Granger's biggest goal?

What was she always trying to do?

What was she working on with Harry and Ron?

Kill Voldemort. But what if, what if he couldn't be killed because he wasn't only in one place at a time? What if somehow Scarhead had figured out that Voldemort made a fucking bloody horcrux? Of course Granger would keep doing her damndest to help destroy it. She was going to brew the fucking potion to kill Voldemort's horcrux _in Draco's flat_.

That was when everything hit Draco like a ton of bricks. There really was hope that Scarhead could pull this off. If the Dark Lord had a horcrux, and Scarhead found it and killed it, Voldemort could be killed. It wasn't just a far off fanciful dream anymore. Draco really could help save the world. When Hermione had said that to him before, he hadn't believed her, and he hadn't realized how he could help. But now he knew.

There were only three, and four including Draco, people on the planet that knew Voldemort had a horcrux. And the most brilliant one was currently at Draco's mercy. Simply by letting Granger live, he was helping save the world. By keeping her safe and healthy and giving her a safe place to plot, he was helping to lead the revolution against Voldemort.

…..

**A/N: Well, what's Draco going to do about that? I'm excited to write the next few chapters, so I hope you're excited to read them! :D **


	11. Switching Sides

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, ideas, places, events, etc. belong to the brilliant mind of JK Rowling. **

**A/N: Hello all! I hope that you are enjoying this story so far. I am guessing that it is **_**almost**_** halfway finished. That's just an estimate though because I haven't written the whole thing yet. But, knowing what I have planned, there will be plenty more to come! While writing this chapter, I felt like not much was really happening, but it is an extremely important chapter. Decisions are made, emotions are revealed, and there is a lot of character development. Enjoy!**

…

Hermione woke up in the middle of the night with a jolt. Clutching at her own sweaty throat, she felt her heart beat pulsing against her fingers as she tried to calm herself. She had been having a nightmare. But _why_? She had been nightmare free every night she had spent with Draco so far.

That was when she noticed that Draco wasn't there. Somewhere, in her subconscious mind, she was aware of the fact that she was sleeping alone. Knowing there was no way she was getting back to sleep any time soon, Hermione groaned and got out of bed. A yawn forced its way out of her as she padded quietly across the floor, opened Draco's bedroom door, and made her way to the sitting room.

Draco was sitting on the couch, facing toward the fireplace, and to Hermione's immense surprise, there was no drink in his hand. Normally he attempted to drink away any upsetting thoughts that kept him up at night. "Something wrong?" she asked.

He didn't even flinch, although her soft question sounded loud in his ears because of the depth of the silence that had previously been surrounding him. "I should kill you," he said it casually, as if commenting on the weather.

"Having second thoughts?" her question was casual also.

"I should kill you," he repeated slowly, "because if I don't, and You-Know-Who finds out about this, I will be worse than dead. Not because I didn't hand you over to him, no, if he found out that I had known you are Hermione Granger and didn't tell him immediately I would be killed on the spot. But if he discovers that I let Hermione Granger live _and_ she knew about his Horcrux _and _she was attempting to brew the potion to kill said Horcrux in my flat, with my knowledge…well, let's just say that death would be a welcome option at that point."

Hermione stood there, stunned. Her knees gave out, and she sank to the floor. Draco knew. How did he know? It didn't matter. He knew. It wasn't just a guess that she could bluff her way out of. "I wouldn't blame you," she whispered, dropping her eyes to stare at the wooden floor beneath her hands, "Slytherins are notorious for putting their needs above anything else. Self preservation and all of that rubbish."

"Rubbish?" It was unnerving to Hermione how blasé Draco sounded. "Self preservation is rubbish? Every human on this planet, every animal on this planet, hell, even some of the fucking _plants _on this planet survive by doing what is best for them. Not what is best for others," his voice was slowly starting to slip into a growl, "It is not _rubbish _to have a desire to live, Granger."

"Not always, Malfoy. There are some in several species that put the needs of the whole above their own selfish needs."

"Ah yes," he mocked angrily, "the _Gryffindors _of the world. Believing that they need to be bleeding heroes." Draco stood, and turned to face Hermione, who was still on the ground, feeling too shaken up to be able to stand, "I am not a hero, Granger," his eyes were dark storm clouds, "I am not a fucking GRYFFINDOR! I don't want to save anyone. I have no desire to put myself in danger for anyone."

Hermione's heart faltered. This was it, she realized suddenly, this was the moment in time when Draco Malfoy made the decision to sell her out to Voldemort. She couldn't breathe. How much longer did she have to live? Would Malfoy floo to his mansion with her right now? Would he summon Voldemort there with his Dark Mark?

Images, memories, flashed through her mind again of the horrible things that had been done to her by Bellatrix Lestrange. How much more terrible would Voldemort be? How much more pain would she have to endure? "So answer me," Draco was still talking. Barely a second had passed and yet so much had run through Hermione's mind. "_Why am I putting myself in danger for you?_"

Hardly daring to believe her ears, her head snapped up and through the filmy layer of tears in her eyes, she could just make out Draco's twisted and tormented expression. "I have done fucking terrible things to protect people I love. To protect myself. But I have never in my life done something this stupid for someone so….so worthless." Hermione was still in such a state of euphoria that Draco wasn't summoning the Dark Lord that his insult bounced right off of her without notice.

"You're….you're not going to tell him?"

Almost an entire minute passed as the two of them stared at each other. Draco surveyed her carefully. "No, I'm not," he finally said, "I can't tell you why, because I don't even know myself. I searched all of your books until I found the potion that called for Basilisk venom," he confessed, "it wasn't exactly difficult to put two and two together."

They stared at each other for a long time. Hermione still couldn't seem to make her legs work, as she sat on the cool wooden surface. Draco stood, several feet away from her, just watching and waiting for her reaction. That was the moment they both knew that this arrangement was more than convenience for both of them. The moment they knew that they were on the same side now. The moment when Draco almost threw caution to the wind and told Hermione about the mixed feelings he had been having about her. Yet he somehow managed to refrain.

He spun away from her, running a hand through his untamed blonde hair, cursing himself under his breath. Neither of them could answer why Draco was doing this. Neither of them could figure out what had changed in Draco Malfoy to make him a better man than he once was. But both were curious to find out.

"So," Draco awkwardly cleared his throat, listening to Hermione breathe in short gasps behind him, "Has Potter found the Horcrux yet?"

"I-I don't know how much I should reveal to you, Malfoy," said Hermione.

Draco was suddenly filled with anger. Anger at her for putting him in this situation, anger at himself for being too weak to hand her over to Voldemort, anger at his parents, Voldemort, Dumbledore, anger at every fucking thing in the entire world. He turned to face her slowly, then stormed up to her, squatted down, grabbed her elbows, and hauled her roughly to her feet.

"I could kill you," he said, "I could give you to the Dark Lord. I could oblivate your memories and keep you safely ignorant of who you really are. I could use Legilimancy to force my way into your mind. I could torture information out of you. I could command you to tell me what you know. I could _fuck_ you if I fancied it. After all, that's what you're for, isn't it, _slave_? Just someone for me to fuck and force to my will? But I haven't. I haven't forced myself on you, despite the fact that I haven't been laid in _months_. I haven't done any of those things. Instead, I have been fucking protecting you! From myself, from Blaise, from the Dark Lord, from every other wizard in the world who would have walked into that Mudblood shop and bought you! Yet you, you underhanded, deceitful bitch, refuse to trust me still. I demand to know _WHY!_"

The command shocked her. Draco hadn't given her a command in such a long time that the tingle that ran up Hermione's spine felt more powerful than it ever had before. She jolted, their noses less than an inch apart, his strong lean fingers digging into her upper arms, gripping her in anger.

"Be-because," she stuttered, the words forcing their way out of her mouth despite how badly she was shaking and how her tongue kept faltering, "I am afraid that this is all an act. I am afraid that you are purposefully being kind to me to get close to me. I'm afraid that the moment I put my guard down and tell you any information of importance, you will have no more use of me and dispose of me. Or start using me for the purpose I was sold for. I trust you, Draco, but I'm a witch of logic. Despite what my emotions tell me, my brain won't stop screaming at me that you could be using me."

"If I was using you," he said carefully, "what use would that be to me, Granger? I could command you to tell me everything you know about what Potter is up to, but I haven't. Why would I go through such tedious means to extract information from you willingly when I could get the information so much more quickly, and accurately, if I demanded it of you?"

"Perhaps," she said slowly, trying her best to not blink as his hard steel grey eyes gazed unflinchingly into her deep brown ones, "it's some sort of twisted game for you. Perhaps you would enjoy tricking the girl who many have called the 'brightest witch of her age.' Maybe, Malfoy, you would get some sick enjoyment out of outwitting me that you wouldn't get from forcing information from me."

"See, Granger, a few years ago I might have agreed with you," Draco didn't seem at all bothered by her assessment of him, "however, I am not the same man I was. Hell, I didn't even know you possessed any important knowledge that could harm the Dark Lord until this evening. I didn't know," he repeated, his voice rasping, "that you were hiding such heinous facts."

He finally loosened his grip and released her. Hermione immediately reached up to rub her arms where she was sure bruises were developing. "I have an idea," he told her, "What if I purchase the Basilisk venom for you? What if I allow you to brew this potion? What if I even help you brew it? Will that be sufficient enough evidence to convince you that I will not betray you?"

After careful thought, Hermione answered, "No," just as Draco's face twisted in anger and he opened his mouth to make an angry retort, Hermione held up a hand to silence him and continued, "but, if you were to do that _and then_ deliver the potion to the Weasley's home, where Ron and Harry have the best chance of finding it. Well, then, Malfoy, I would probably believe anything you'd say."

Draco contemplated this. He paced in front of his massive fireplace as he battled this out in his head. Which side _was _he on? Naturally, a part of him screamed to be on the side that was most likely to win. At this point, however, he wasn't sure which side that was. Voldemort had already won, it was true, but if he had a Horcrux and Potter killed it, then Voldemort _could_ fall. He would _probably_ fall. Draco licked his lips nervously, his mouth and lips were suddenly much too dry, "Water, Kitten," the command was accompanied with a quick snap of his fingers.

Hermione's body obeyed instantly, practically running to the kitchen to pour him a glass of water and then bringing it to him quickly. He took only a few swallows before his wild and crazed gaze fell on her and he said the four words that sealed his fate, "Alright. I'll do it."

….

As the two of them sat in a comfortable silence, Hermione's mind buzzed excitedly. She continued to go over their conversation in her head, replaying certain phrases that stood out to her. It was well into the night, perhaps even early hours of the morning, yet neither would be able to sleep. That was alright, though, because Draco didn't have school the following day.

"You really haven't?" Hermione didn't know what possessed her to ask this question. They had both felt the sexual tension between them, but were unsure if the other had felt it also, "Slept with anyone recently?" she clarified.

"No," his reply was curt.

"Why not? I thought that you must be hooking up with women at school."

"Haven't we been over this before, Granger? Don't ask me about personal things. Ask me no secrets, and I'll tell you no lies."

"If you are asking me to trust you," she told him, folding her hands gently in her lap as she spoke, "then you should probably trust me as well. Why haven't you continued to be a womanizing git lately?"

He snorted at her terminology, "Fine. Just this once I'll let you get an honest glimpse into my twisted psyche. The main reason is because I haven't wanted to. Don't give me that shocked expression, Granger, you had to have realized this. Who would be in the mood to shag in my circumstances? Attending Death Eater meetings at least once a week, going to school where it is drilled into our heads that we must refuse medical assistance to any mudblood, blood traitor, or muggle. It's had me feeling so…so sick inside, that I haven't had much desire to do anything except to throw myself into my studies. Just doing my best to make it in this world that You-Know-Who has created."

Hermione frowned at him in sympathy, and Draco found that he didn't resent it as much as he thought he would. He had refrained from revealing so much of himself to her out of fear that her sympathy and pity would be revolting to him, but oppositely, he felt strangely comforted that she _cared_ about him and his happiness.

"You said that was your main reason," she reminded him tenderly, "Did you have another reason?"

"Despite the fact that I haven't wanted it," he told her, "I have also not found a woman that I desired to bed. Even when a woman walks past me, I barely notice. So, put those two things together; no appealing women, and no desire to shag an appealing woman, and there you have the reasons for my celibacy."

He tipped his glass toward her, as if toasting her, and then drained the last remnants of the water she had brought him earlier. "But that's not true," she corrected him. She couldn't help herself, honestly. As much as she hated to bring it up, as much as she tried to tell herself to just shut up for once, long habit made it impossible to keep herself from correcting someone when they said something she knew was untrue. "You desired me," her face flushed crimson as she said this and she found that she couldn't take her eyes off of his face, "last night, in your dream."

His eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't known that she knew what he had dreamed about. "I did," he consented, "I am still a man, Kitten. It's bloody difficult _not_ to desire a beautiful witch who is in bed with you. I'll amend my earlier statement, then, and say this…I have not been in the mood for sex, nor have I found a witch desirable who would be willing to shag me, even if I wanted it."

The way he said this so flippantly made Hermione's mouth drop open. It was a rare thing for Hermione Granger to feel dumbfounded, but she did. When Malfoy had first _bought _her, he had made it abundantly clear that he would never want her sexually. Yet he had obviously changed his mind. Or had lied to her in the first place. Just admitting that he was sexually attracted to someone of her blood status and saying she was beautiful…it was enough to make Hermione more inclined to believe that he had turned over a new leaf.

"I see," was all she said. What else could she say? Yes, she wanted him, too, but she knew it would be an unwise thing for her to say or act upon. It was a biological fact that she would desire a sexual relationship with Malfoy. He was the only male she was in close contact with on a daily basis and she was sleeping with him every night in his bed, cuddling with him. Her heart wouldn't be in it, though. She knew this because her heart was still with Ron.

….

They didn't lie down to go to bed until the sun had risen. Draco took care to flick his wand at the windows, where heavy curtains snapped shut to block the sun. He fell face first onto his pillow, groaning. Although he had spent many nights awake, he had rarely ever felt so tired as a result. His mind ached for unconsciousness. Hermione climbed in beside him, sliding under the covers. Draco moaned, rolled toward her, wrapped his arms around her and fell asleep instantly. Hermione took only a moment longer to join him in blissful oblivion.

A sharp knock on the door woke them not very many hours later. It was followed almost immediately by a series of three more hard knocks on the door of his flat. "Draco," said Hermione, "There's someone at the door."

"You get it," he grumbled, pulling a pillow over his head to deafen the sound.

Sighing, Hermione disentangled herself from Draco's arms and sheets and proceeded as quickly as she could to answer the door. "Good afternoon," said Lucius Malfoy as he strode into the sitting room without sparing her a glance.

She was suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was clad only in a pair of shorts and a tank top. After all, the body heat Draco gave off during the night often kept her too warm as it was. Perhaps she should have paused to put a bra on before she had answered the door.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said respectfully, "Can I get you a drink?"

"Not today," he told her briskly, "I have business to take care of at the Ministry," he looked her over carefully now, his eyes lingering on the bruises on her arms that had been made by Draco's hands, and a demeaning smirk crept onto his features as he took in her unkempt appearance. "Where's Draco?"

"Sleeping," said Hermione at once, "We had a late night."

"So it would seem," he almost laughed as he spoke. Hermione self-consciously crossed her arms over her chest. "Go and wake him, then," Lucius commanded arrogantly, "I don't have time to wait for him to rouse himself after a night of what was obviously very rowdy shagging."

Disgusted by the tone he was using as well as his manner, Hermione was glad of an excuse to get away from him. "Draco," she said when she entered his bedroom, "It's your father. He wants to speak with you."

Draco let out a vague, "Arrghh," before sitting up. Hermione let out a small giggle as she watched. His hair was sticking up in every direction, he looked as if he had been Confunded, and he was scratching at the light small patch of blonde hair on his bare chest.

Without a word to her, he brushed by her and went out to speak with his father. Hermione opted to stay in the bedroom. She didn't want to see or speak with Lucius again if she could help it. She managed to hear a snide comment from Lucius about how Draco was wearing only a pair of boxers before she shut the door.

She sat patiently waiting on the bed until Draco returned. "He's gone," he told her, "come on, let's eat breakfast. I'm absolutely famished." He held his hand out to her and she grabbed it without any hesitation.

"What did he want?"

"To ask if I have had any trouble with you," Draco laughed without humor, "If only he knew all of the fucking trouble you've caused for me," he shook his head and moved around the kitchen, pulling out pans and food items.

"You're going to make breakfast?" asked Hermione as she stood uncertainly in the door way.

"I'm going to help. I can't seem to sit still right now. Come on, make yourself useful, get the flour, I rather think I'm in the mood for some biscuits this morning."

Together, the two of them made breakfast and talked. It was the most they had talked in weeks. Draco laughed when Hermione accidentally got herself covered in flour. Hermione jumped to his side when he accidentally burned himself on the stove. It was a comfortable companionship.

"I need to study," he announced once his hunger was satiated.

"I'll help you," Hermione had offered this before, but he had always declined. This time he nodded without comment and she followed him out to the sitting room.

Draco and Hermione happily began throwing around Healer terms, potion ingredients, and medical theories until well into the evening. "No," Hermione corrected, with an open book on her lap, "Conjunctivitis can infect muggles as well as wizards."

"Don't even know why we need to know that," he complained scathingly, "We're not legally allowed to even treat muggles anymore. If a wizard hits a muggle with a Conjunctivitis curse, he's on his own."

"Muggle doctors have ways to treat conjunctivitis," Hermione noted.

"Muggle what?"

"Doctors. It's the term for muggle healers, really."

"I'm hungry."

"I noticed. You're always so grouchy when you don't get fed. It reminds me of Ronald."

"Don't compare me to the Weasel."

"What do you want to eat?" She began closing the open textbooks around her, marking certain pages for them to come back to later.

"Pizza."

"We had pizza yesterday."

"Yes, and I want it tonight also. Is there a problem with that, Kitten?"

"Not at all. Would you like me to go get it and bring it home?"

"I'll do it," Draco stood up from the couch and stretched, "It seems like every time you leave this flat you get into trouble, so I'll get the pizza. Do you have any muggle money or will I have to Obliviate the cashier into thinking that I paid him when I really didn't?"

"Some things never change, do they, Malfoy?" her voice didn't hold any venom. As a matter of fact, it sounded almost like endearment, "I have muggle money. Here, this should be enough."

….

That night, as Hermione climbed into bed, she realized that it felt familiar. It was comforting to her to crawl into bed with Draco Malfoy, be enveloped into his arms, and sleep safely all night. She was becoming increasingly aware of the attraction between the two of them, but along with this awareness also came wariness. _That's all it is_, she scolded herself, _sexual attraction. Nothing more._

"Goodnight, Kitten," Draco whispered after a yawn. He snuggled closer to her, and without pausing to think about what he was doing, kissed her hair and was almost instantly asleep. He really had been exhausted.

Just as Hermione was drifting off herself, the thought came to her that this wasn't a bad place to be, really. She could be happy here. If it weren't for the dire circumstances of the wizard world. If she had liberty to do what she wanted, live where she wanted, buy whatever she wanted, she would be happy coming home to this every evening.

If she had the freedom to choose her own path, she might very well choose this one. Draco was a type of companion she had never had before. Ron was loyal, funny, and chivalrous. Then there was Harry who was brave, loyal, and somewhat intelligent.

But Draco Malfoy challenged her in exciting ways; intellectually, physically, emotionally, magically. He made her laugh, he kept her safe, he was helping her, he filled a void in her life that she never knew was there. Tears began escaping her eyes and sliding down to land silently on her pillow. She lifted her hand to her face and touched the droplets lightly. Why was she crying?

The answer came to her in a shining moment of epiphany. She didn't want to go back to her old life. Then again, she didn't want to stay in her current one either. She wanted a balance of the two. How could she possibly reconcile the girl she had been over a month ago to the girl she was now? More importantly, how could she combine her new life with Draco to her old life with Harry and Ron?

…..

Draco came home from work Monday afternoon later than normal. Hermione had begun to worry when he suddenly swooped into the flat, with a triumphant grin on his face. "Here you are then, Granger, exhibit A of my reform." He extracted a large bottle from his cloak labeled, _Basilisk Venom_.

"Sweet Merlin, how much of that did you purchase?" her eyes were wide.

"Enough to make at least three batches of the potion you wanted to brew. Why do you want to brew that potion anyway? Pure Basilisk venom will kill a Horcrux just as efficiently."

"Yes, but it's much more dangerous. Basilisk venom would kill a human instantly, but this potion is actually safe to humans. For example, let's say I was running with a vial of Basilisk venom and fell. If the vial smashed, the glass cut me, and Basilisk venom seeped into the open wound, I would be dead within moments. However, in that same scenario with this potion in the vial instead of pure Basilisk venom, I would be unharmed."

Draco smirked, "Afraid Scarhead and Weasel would kill themselves if you gave them pure Basilisk venom?"

"Harry and Ron are perfectly capable wizards, Draco. I have full confidence in them. They don't need me in order to succeed in this mission. However, if I can help them in anyway, then you'd better bet your broomstick that I will do my best."

"Come on, then, let's get brewing."

Draco pulled his cauldron out of the cupboard and banged it onto the counter in the kitchen. Hermione and Draco split the work evenly, with Draco doing all of the magical parts, waving his wand, conjuring fires, and then magically transferring the finished potion into three separate vials.

"How will this work then?" he asked as he watched her put a stopper into the tops of the vials. "Will they just have to pour this potion onto the Horcrux?"

"Oh, no. I except they will have to dip a blade into this potion then stab the Horcrux through with it. We should take two vials of this potion to the Weasley's and keep one vial here."

"Why?" Draco looked at her as if she were mad. "You think I want to keep such incriminating evidence in my flat? We'd better send the whole lot of it to the Weasley's to be rid of it ourselves."

"We might need it," Hermione said this mysteriously and it instantly made Draco suspicious. Hermione was thinking of the snake, Nagini. After all, Draco was in close contact with the snake on a regular basis. If need be, she was sure it would be possible for Draco to get her close to the snake. Draco, however, didn't know this.

"Have they found it then? Or are they still looking? Is that why you want to keep some of this blasted potion here, just in case you find the Horcrux before them?"

"I'm not telling you, Draco."

"Fine," he grumbled, "Let's just get this over with, alright?"

"We'll be taking one vial," she held up one of them for emphasis, "To Ron's parent's house, the Burrow, on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon, England. The second one we will take to Shell Cottage which is on the outskirts of Tinworth in Cornwall. Got that, Malfoy?"

"Yes," he grumbled as he grabbed Hermione's new cloak and threw it over her shoulders. "They can't see us, of course, so here, pull your hood up," he took hold of the crimson colored hood and pulled it over Hermione's head, hiding her face. He took his emerald green cloak and did the same with himself. "Here we go," she looped her arm through his and clung closely to him as he spun on the spot and disapparated.

…

"Arthur, Arthur look! Who are those people?" Molly Weasley was gazing worriedly out of the kitchen window. Far beyond the borders of her home and the Fidelius Charm that protected it were two cloaked figures bumbling around.

"I don't know," he told her honestly, "could be friends or foes. I suggest we stay here and see what they do. Don't worry, Molly, dear, they can't see us." Arthur Weasley put his arm around his wife and they watched with confusion as the two people pulled out a vial and set it on the ground.

"Looks like they're leaving something for us," said Ginny Weasley, who had overheard her parents talking and rushed to see what was going on.

"Could be dangerous," said Arthur.

"Or it could be important," said Ginny.

The two mysterious figures looked toward the house without seeing it; neither of them had been told the home's location by it's Secret Keeper. But Hermione knew it was there. She knew that somewhere in her line of vision was the place that had become a second home to her. Without revealing her face, she smelled in the familiar scent of the clean fresh air around the Burrow and smiled.

"Let's go," she whispered to Draco, "and hope that they have seen us."

They linked hands and were gone in the blink of an eye. The moment they disapparated, Ginny Weasley rushed for the door, but Fred Weasley grabbed her and hauled her back. "No, Gin, it's too dangerous to go out there. We'll Summon whatever it is," he pulled out his wand.

"No!" Snapped his father, "That's too risky, Fred. Whatever it is, it could explode or something equally as dangerous. We will not bring it into this house."

"But Arthur," said Molly, "What if it is important?"

Sighing, Arthur Weasley looked around at all of the faces crowding into the kitchen. His family. They were all looking to him to make the final decision. "Charlie," he called for his second eldest son, "You and I will go out there to investigate. Fred, George, and Molly, I want all three of you watching from the house. If you see anyone trying to sneak up on us, Stupefy them. Understood?" Everyone nodded.

Arthur and Charlie swept quickly and quietly out of the house. Moving hurriedly toward the unknown object, they both felt the difference when they stepped out of the safety of the Fidelius Charm. Arthur bent to pick up the item while Charlie glanced around warily. "There's a note tied to a vial of potion," said Arthur in bemusement.

"What does it say, Dad?"

"It says, '_Mr. and Mrs. Weasley: I am a friend and fervent supporter of Harry Potter. I know that he keeps close company with your son, Ronald. I have brewed this potion to help him succeed in his endeavor to kill He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I know that he needs this, that this will help him. Of course he won't know what it is or what to do with it, but tell him this and he will understand: Dip a knife into this potion and run it through the soul of the Dark Lord. Long live Harry Potter!_"

Arthur and Charlie looked at each other with identical frowns. "It seems," said Charlie, "that those people thought that we are in contact with Harry, but we're not."

"Just the same," said his father, "we will keep it just in case. But don't bring it into the house. Leave it in the broom shed. If Harry, Ron, or Hermione turn up here, we'll give them the potion with this note."

….

"Bill!" A frightened Fleur Weasley rushed into her home, screaming for her husband, "Bill! Someone ez here! Zhey are on ze hill, behind ze house, outside of ze Charm!"

"Where?" Bill snatched up his wand and rushed out his back door with his wife right on his heels. "What are they doing?"

Draco and Hermione looked down toward Shell Cottage. Hermione could see it, of course, but Draco couldn't. Pretending as if she couldn't see anything, she waited until she knew that Bill and Fleur were watching, and she made a show of producing the vial and note, setting them down, and then stepping away from it with Draco and disappearing into the night.


	12. A Death Eater Meeting

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. All recognizable characters, ideas, events, places, etc. belong to JK Rowling.**

**A/N: First of all, thanks for all of the amazing reviews! They keep me inspired to write more often! Secondly, this chapter is mainly stream of consciousness from Draco. You might be reading it and think to yourself, 'How did we get from that thought to this one?' but that's the way I intended it. It's kind of from Draco's point of view, so where ever his mind goes, that's what I wrote. Also, before this chapter I went really light on the Dramione moments, but they will be picking up quickly now. Basically, in case you couldn't tell from the last two chapters and this one, they have finally decided to embrace the fact that they kind of like each other. Plot will quickly become a lot deeper. NEXT CHAPTER IS A HARRY/RON CHAPTER BUT IT IS VERY IMPORTANT! I know those can be boring chapters, but they're important to the plot. While this is a Dramione pairing story, there is still a heavy plot going on and Harry and Voldemort will have to face off eventually. It's inevitable. I intended for this chapter to be longer, but I got across everything I wanted to and didn't feel the need to drag it out! BONUS points to anyone who can guess why I chose Daphne and Astoria's father's name!**

…**.**

Another week had come and gone. Hermione was restless beyond belief. It was almost September. Her summer had almost entirely been spent as a slave. Not just as any slave, no, but a slave to Draco Malfoy. A slave who didn't even look like herself. As she stepped out of the shower and wiped the fog off of the mirror, she frowned at her own reflection. She was almost starting to forget what she truly looked like. The only small piece of herself she could find was the white scar against her throat where Bellatrix had pushed a blade into her skin. The one injury that Bellatrix Lestrange had inflicted without magic was the only one Fleur Weasley had been unable to heal completely.

The reflection that had once been a stranger to her was now her normal appearance, and the wizard who had once been her enemy was now her friend. She still refused to tell him what she knew of Voldemort and his Horcrux (she never corrected him when he used the single tense, no need to alert him to the fact that there were still three Horcrux_es_ that needed to be destroyed).

Ron and Harry had the Cup, which was still a Horcrux unless they had figured out some way to destroy it by now, which Hermione thought was unlikely. They were, hopefully, searching for something that belonged to Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. Perhaps they'd already found it. Hermione could hope. Then, of course, there was the snake. If she could only get close enough to it. She felt like the snake without a doubt needed to be the last Horcrux to be destroyed. The snake was always close to Voldemort's side, or at least close to his mind. A dead Nagini would immediately reveal to Voldemort that they were destroying pieces of his soul.

Hermione took only a moment to run a brush through her short straight light brown hair, watching her reflection with wary eyes. Tears leaked out and began running down her soft cheeks, "I'm sorry," she whispered aloud, "I'm sorry." She was apologizing to herself, for making the mistakes that led her here. To Draco whom she had put in danger. To the entire population for not being out there fighting. To Ron, because every day she felt farther away from him and closer to Draco. Mostly, she was sorry to Harry, because she had promised to stick with him until the very end, yet she had unwillingly abandoned him.

"Kitten?" Draco's call was accompanied with a knock on the door. She jumped in surprise and without thinking, wrenched the door open, despite the fact that she was clad only in a small bath towel that was wrapped around her. Completely ignoring the way she was dressed, Draco stretched out a hand to catch one of her tears on his fingertip. "Why are you crying?"

His words were sincere. Positively sobbing now, Hermione did the only logical thing she could; she threw herself into his arms and cried all over his lovely green robes. "I'm so sorry!" she screamed.

"Bugger, you're a crazy bint, aren't you?" Draco was completely unsure of how to handle this situation. He was, to put it mildly, extremely out of his element. "Um, there….there…" he patted her awkwardly on the head. Hermione didn't even seem to notice the gesture. Groaning, knowing that he was probably going to be late for school, he picked her up bridal style and carried her to the sofa. He sat down with her in his lap and asked gently, "Why don't you tell me why you are carrying on like a banshee?"

"I left them!" she yelled, clutching his robes with her small hands, "They needed me, they trusted me, and I left them! I promised Harry…I promised him that I wouldn't leave him. That I would stick with him through everything. I went without food, shelter, safety…I was beaten, tortured, and broken. I fought for my life, and I was carried off by a bunch of blundering _gits_ who could never beat me in a fair duel! Merlin, Draco! I abandoned them."

"No, you didn't," he corrected her, "You had no choice. The word 'abandoned' implies that you left of your own free will." He took on a mocking tone, "Excuse me, but did you _choose _to leave Harry and Ron?" Hermione lifted her head from his shoulder and gazed at him in amazement. "See?" he teased, "I knew you'd realize that I was right, I always am, you know."

"You….you called them Harry and Ron."

"Yes, well, with you saying it all the bloody time it was bound to rub off on me eventually," he dismissed with a wave of his hand. "You missed the point, love. The point was that this is _not your fault_. Stop blaming yourself for everything." It didn't go unnoticed by Hermione that Draco had just called her '_love_' but it was more important to focus on the conversation they were having.

"Thank you, Draco," she hiccupped once, as a result from her wailing, and then realized that she was practically naked. "Oh…oh my," she leaped up, pulled the towel more securely around herself, and ran quickly back to the lavatory. Draco smirked as he watched her retreat, knowing that she hadn't even noticed the sudden bulge in his trousers.

…..

When Hermione emerged from the bathroom for the second time, she was entirely composed. Almost optimistic, actually, and it grated only slightly on Draco's nerves. He knew she was overcompensating for freaking out earlier, but did she have to sound _quite _so chipper?

"What time will you be home this evening? I was thinking of making steak and kidney pie; I noticed how much you like it."

"Let's have a late dinner. I have a meeting right after work."

"Is it a…"

"Yes," he finished the thought for her, "it's a Death Eater meeting. Why? Thinking of signing up?"

She blanched and Draco chuckled, "I was kidding," he told her before tapping her under the chin lightly, "we both know they'd never take you."

Hermione relaxed and rolled her eyes. This joking and fun side of Draco was one she had never seen before, and quite frankly, she was having a hard time getting used to it. The past week had been a strange one. They'd grown closer but without consciously deciding to. Nothing significant had happened, just little things here or there; a joke, a touch, a nice gesture. Even more strangely, they both _liked_ it.

Hermione pursed her lips tightly, as she had the sudden urge to stretch up onto the tips of her toes and brush her lips against his. She'd had that urge a few times over the past week, but it was shockingly hard to resist when he was right in front of her, grinning down at her with his hand under her chin. She gulped loudly and turned away. "You'd best be going," she spoke to the wall, "you're going to be late."

"Right then," said Draco casually, "See you tonight." Hermione didn't turn around until she heard the front door close.

…

Draco scowled, staring down at his shoes as he stalked out of the apartment complex. It had been years since he'd felt so light and free. Years since he felt like he had something in his life worth living for. Years since he had something that made him look forward to arriving home in the evenings. She made all the difference.

She had helped him study every night that week and now knew the material just as well as he did. He had never met someone who matched him so equally on an intellectual level. She challenged him to think in new ways he hadn't before, and despite whatever she said, he knew that she looked to him for safety and protection.

He found that he wanted to be her protector. He wanted to keep her shielded from the world, safe in his flat for the rest of their lives. More than that, he didn't want Hermione Granger to just be safe; he wanted her to be happy. Most importantly, he wanted to be the cause of her happiness. Lately, he'd been trying. Making her happy was becoming increasingly easier to do as he got to know her and her quirks.

One of the most important facts he'd gleaned was that Hermione Granger loved to laugh. That must be why she liked the Weasel so much. He was always good for a laugh. Even when it made her angry, she liked to be teased. Whenever Draco made a snide remark about her intelligence level, or her looks, or her choice of friends, her cheeks would turn three shades of crimson and her eyes would turn into slits and she would suck in a big deep breath of air and throw her fists about as she yelled. Then, once the storm was over, she'd almost smile, and he could tell she enjoyed getting riled up.

That was when Draco Malfoy had the scary thought that perhaps, _perhaps_…he was falling in love with her. He didn't have any previous experience to compare this to. He'd never been in love before, never even _thought_ he was in love before, but suddenly this feisty bird consumed his every thought and action.

The thought didn't repulse him anymore. He'd spent the past few weeks coming to terms with this probability. What scared him more than his possible feelings was that she was a muggleborn. The only way they could possibly stay together under Voldemort's regime would be to keep it a secret from everyone. They could never marry, never have children. That thought was now that one that filled him with dread.

Once he reached St. Mungo's, he pushed all of these ideas from his mind and began to focus on the day ahead of him.

All through the hours of rigorous coursework he became increasingly more depressed. Knowing that his evening would be spent in a dark room in the heart of his childhood home with wizards he was ashamed to even know did nothing to lift his spirits.

The Dark Lord had conquered Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic. The war that he had been leading since his own school days was over. Now the only goal he had left to focus on was the capture of Harry Potter. Hermione had confessed to Draco that she didn't know where Harry and Ron were, and Draco believed her. It made sense to him. The safest place for Harry Potter would be constantly on the move. To stay in one place would be nothing but a liability.

Death Eater meetings now primarily focused on anything Harry Potter related, and new Ministry laws that made Draco sick to his stomach. Whenever he returned home from his mansion he practiced Occlumency with Hermione with a tireless fervor. They reminded him why it was such a dangerous world now. They also put him in an unbearably bad mood and made him want to drink. As he left St. Mungo's and prepared to Apparate away, he wondered vaguely what they had to discuss tonight.

Voldemort was no longer abroad. Apparently he had been searching for some special wand. But he had found it and was now staying in Britain, though whenever Draco pictured the Dark Lord sleeping it seemed like such a silly image that he couldn't quite imagine it. Where did he sleep? Did he sleep at all? Not sure if he even wanted to know, Draco shook his head roughly and tried to think of something else.

The Death Eaters had regular meetings, sometimes with new recruits and sometimes with people missing from their ranks. On more than one occasion, someone's absence had been because they'd been killed by rebels still opposing Voldemort's rule.

To the public, of course, Voldemort wasn't a figurehead. He was behind the scenes, and everybody knew it, but he kept ingeniously out of sight. People knew what was going on, of course, especially with the Order of the Phoenix lot still putting up a rather good fight.

Draco snorted as he realized that Hermione was probably a member of the Order. The first time he'd ever seen a real fight between the Order and the Death Eaters, it had been at Hogwarts the night Dumbledore had died. It wasn't anything like Draco had expected. He wasn't a soldier, he wasn't a Gryffindor, he didn't have an ounce of bravery in him, and he certainly didn't want to fight to the death with other wizards.

He remembered blurry images from that night, but nothing more. The scene in the Astronomy Tower was shockingly clear in his mind as he replayed it almost every day, but otherwise the entire incident was blurry at best. He had tried to not look around as Snape rushed him out of the castle.

With a shock, Draco realized that he had been so lost in thought that he had made it all the way to the front gates of his home without remembering how he got there. Sighing, he shook his head and stepped right through the wrought iron gates as if they were nothing more than smoke.

Upon entering, he could always tell if Voldemort was there yet or not. If Voldemort was there, then an eerie silence would meet him, accompanied with a distinctively cold feeling. If Voldemort had yet to show his ugly face, then usually his mother greeted him at the door, took his cloak, kissed his forehead, and reminded him to obey every command he was given and to keep as quiet as possible.

His entire family had gone up in rank over the summer. The last blunder when Bellatrix had tortured Hermione and the three Gryffindors had escaped, everyone who was at the Manor had been tortured mercilessly by Voldemort. However, claiming to be a gracious master, he had slowly let them redeem themselves. He and his father had both been allowed to purchase new wands once Borgin and Burkes took over Ollivanders.

As soon as he swept into the entrance hall, his mother was upon him, brushing off his shoulders, smoothing down his collar, and saying in a hurried whisper, "I think something important is going on tonight. Try to stay calm, don't speak out of turn, and if he asks you to do something, you accept the task with humble devotion. Understood?"

"Yes, Mother," Draco said the same placating words to her every week.

"Come on then, he's almost here."

The chairs around the long dark table were already almost filled completely. Draco took the seat next to his mother, who was beside her husband. The three of them had moved up along the table now. Severus Snape remained seated on Voldemort's right hand side. Only a small handful remained farther up than the Malfoy family in the Death Eater ranks; the Lestranges, Pius Thicknesse, and the Carrows. Surprisingly, the Malfoys were now above Dolohov and Avery.

Two years ago, Draco would have felt pride for this move in ranks, but now he felt disgusted. To be in the tops of Voldemort's ranks meant that those were the ones who were most devoted to him and the ones who had done most of the damage to the wizarding world.

A few moments later, silence fell and Voldemort came striding into the room with his snake at his feet. Draco hated that blasted snake. It was one of his deepest desires to give it a good stomp without risking getting his leg bitten off. All eyes followed their master as he went to take his place at the head of the table. Bellatrix's head was bowed so low it was nearly touching the mahogany surface.

"Good evening, my most devoted friends," Voldemort began with a sinister smile. How he managed to smile at all was beyond Draco's comprehension; was he actually _happy_? "First of all, does anyone have any important news that needs to be shared?"

There was a short pause before, "My Lord," it was Thicknesse, looking highly uncomfortable, "It has come to the attention of the Ministry that several pureblood, and half-blood, families have either moved abroad or went into hiding. With Hogwarts now being mandatory for all young witches and wizards, the class lists Severus has shown me are much shorter than they should be."

"Yes," said Voldemort knowledgably, "I have foreseen this issue, Thicknesse, and that is what we are all here to discuss this evening. It is my desire that we take what we have done in this country and spread it further. As most of you know, I spent much of the winter and spring months abroad. I do not normally seek out foreign witches and wizards as I travel, but I do have contacts elsewhere. We will take our victory here and let all of the countries in the world see how we live now. Let them see that we are taking back our freedom from the oppression of muggles. And, let's help them do the same. If we have every country in the world running as smoothly as ours, there will be nowhere for the runaways to go. Many have gone abroad, let us show them that there is no hiding from Lord Voldemort. There is no hiding from the natural order of the world."

There were many cheers and whistles as this pronouncement. Bellatrix went so far as to leap to her feet and applaud her master exuberantly. Draco, however showed no reaction. The thought of running away; taking Hermione and disappearing together, had never occurred to him. But if it had, what would he have done? At the very least he would have been sorely tempted by the idea. Now it would no longer be possible.

"I wish for Avery and Mulciber to travel to France next week. I have a few contacts there who I will need you to get in touch with. The French have a slightly different magical government and I need the two of you to figure out exactly how it functions. Just as we have done here, we shall take down any resistance from the inside. It is the desire of wizards everywhere to live as we now live here, and as a gracious master, Lord Voldemort will provide for the wizards of the world exactly what they need to thrive." A world without muggles. Voldemort didn't say it, but he didn't have to. Everyone in attendance there knew that what he thought would make the wizards of the world thrive would be to live and associate only with others who were magical.

"Meanwhile," Voldemort continued, "I shall require the assistance of Severus, Nott, and Rowle with other matters."

"My Lord?" asked Severus in an almost bored tone.

"As you are well aware, I have been attempting to recruit Peneus Greengrass and his family to my cause. They remain, however, unconvinced."

"My Lord," said Rowle with a grin, "Surely you do not think they plot against you? The Greengrass family is a pureblood family with proper wizarding pride. I know Peneus personally and he does not oppose you."

"He does not oppose me openly, Rowle, it is true, but if he will not join me then he is against me. I need you three to convince him that he is making a grave mistake by not bearing my Mark and becoming one of my faithful servants."

"How do you wish for us to accomplish this, Master?" asked Snape.

"He has daughters," said the Dark Lord, "two of them. One has already graduated from Hogwarts and moved out of her family's home. The younger one, however, still has two years left at Hogwarts. I do not wish for you to kill her. To shed any amount of magical blood is a waste. You just need to give her a taste of my displeasure. Before she returns to Hogwarts, you will pay a house visit and torture the young witch until her parents realize the error of their ways."

"Yes, my Lord," said all three Death Eaters at once.

Draco's hands clenched on the arms of his chair. He knew the Greengrass sisters. He didn't pay much attention to them in school because they weren't supporters of Voldemort. They believed in blood purity, but not to the extreme that Voldemort took it. They were, in a sense, the best Slytherins of the lot of them. They were loyal as far as Slytherins went. And they loved and protected each other, just as siblings should. It made Draco sick to think that Voldemort was dishing out orders to have one of them hurt for no reason.

Once again the notion occurred to Draco that he was doing the right thing by switching sides now. As the saying went, better late than never.

…**.**

Draco was more than relieved when he finally arrived home. As promised, Hermione had steak and kidney pie hot on the table. He lunged forward toward it, but a voice behind him made a 'tsk' sound. "Wash your hands, first, I don't want any Death Eater germs on the food I slaved over all evening."

A real smile graced Draco's face at her teasing tone. His worries flew from his mind as he felt himself relax in her presence. "I'll do you one better, Kitten," his smile turned into a smirk. He put the handle of his wand between his teeth, and put the tip of his wand in his cupped hands. He performed a silent _Scourgify_ spell and his hands were instantly clean.

"You're too much sometimes, Draco, did anyone ever tell you that? Would it have been so bloody difficult to actually walk to the sink and wash them the normal way?"

"Normal," he scoffed, "I'm Draco Malfoy. I have nothing to do with anything that is normal, common, or muggle….except pizza."

"When this war is over," said Hermione as she waggled a finger at him mockingly, "and You-Know-Who is gone, I am going to introduce you to all sorts of muggle things that you will love." Draco's heart felt like it had stopped beating for a moment. Without even realizing it, she had allayed some of Draco's greatest fears. It wasn't just him who was feeling this way; Hermione felt this way, too. She must if she was still planning on spending time with him once she was free. _Once she was free._ He vowed right then and there to make sure that no matter who came out victorious; Harry Potter or Tom Riddle, he would make sure that Hermione was free and had the best future he could provide for her.

Never had he wanted to kiss her more than he wanted to right at that moment. The only thing that kept him from acting on that feeling was that he knew once he kissed her, he wouldn't be able to stop.


	13. The Search Continues

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places, ideas, events, etc. belong to the brilliant JK Rowling.**

**Author's Note at the end.**

…

Harry Potter woke up and opened his eyes. The room around him was blurry and his hand fumbled around on his bedside table until finding his glasses and putting them on. The familiar feeling of despair enveloped him. People were dying every day. Evil laws were being passed every week. And here he was, Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, the only one who had a chance of defeating Voldemort, hiding safely in the home of Daphne Greengrass while searching for one of his best friends.

With every passing day, he felt like it was more and more unlikely they would find Hermione alive, if at all. His entire body shook with a silent sob as, not for the first time, he thought that he would rather fail the whole world than fail Hermione. He loved her as if she were his flesh and blood sister. Her safety meant more to him than the safety of everyone else in the world combined (with the exceptions of Ron and Ginny). Her safety meant more to him than killing Voldemort.

"Good morning," said Daphne as Harry stumbled into the kitchen. Ron was already up, eating biscuits hungrily. Harry still hadn't figured Daphne out; but one thing he could say was that she was an excellent cook. It had been a relief to Harry when Ron finally started having an appetite again. The loss of Hermione had devastated Ron to the point that he didn't even feel hungry. But it seemed Daphne's cooking had finally gotten to him.

"Morning," said Harry thickly.

"We've been through the list of names again," said Ron. "We think that we narrowed it down to four possible girls." For a few weeks, while not working, Daphne had gone out into the wizard world to stop by every place she could find where they sold Mudbloods. She had managed to swipe several files of names of sold Mudbloods. The only problem was that Hermione would not have given her real name.

"There's also another place I found," Daphne contributed to the conversation, "Blaise Zabini told me about it at work yesterday. I was in the staff lounge, talking loudly about how I wanted to purchase a mudblood but didn't know where to start. Blaise suggested a little shop in Hogsmeade where he bought his…erm…girl. I'll head over there right after breakfast."

"I'll go with you," another thing about Ron that had changed was that he was now extremely eager to do anything he could to keep himself busy. At first Harry thought it was because it helped to keep his mind off of Hermione, but now he was starting to wonder if it was because of Daphne.

"Harry?" She asked politely.

Frowning, he shook his head, "Tell me which names sound suspicious to you and I will look into them."

"Alright," said Daphne. Harry watched her as she crossed her kitchen and picked up a large pile of parchment. He couldn't deny that she was pretty, and it wasn't hard to notice that Ron had picked up on that as well. Daphne's dark brown hair was thick but straight and fell just below her slim shoulders. Everything about her just screamed _feminine. _

"These ones," Ron picked up the top piece of parchment and read aloud, "_Jean Foster_, see, that one could be Hermione because Hermione might have used her middle name; Jean," the look Harry gave Ron made it clear that there was no need for him to explain every name. "Right, then there's _Ginger Smith_."

"Hold on, that one confuses me. Why would you think she would make up the name _Ginger Smith_?"

"Because," said Ron as if it were obvious, "I'm a Ginger! She might have been trying to get our attention. Smith is just a generic common surname. Next name on the list we came across that sounded like it had some promise is _Penelope Rogers_. I figured she gave the name Penelope Clearwater to those Snatchers who took us to Malfoy Manor, but Penelope Clearwater is a half-blood so Hermione couldn't use that name, so she may have just stuck with the Penelope bit."

"And the last name?" asked Harry, feeling unlikely than any of these poor random muggleborn girls was his best friend.

"_Heather Gryffin."_

"And why does that one make the list?"

"Look at the way it's spelled, Harry. Normally the last name Griffin is spelled with an _i _but this one is a _y._ You know, like Gryffindor. Not to mention Heather is kind of similar to Hermione."

"Well, alright, let's say for argument's sake that one of these four girls is Hermione, how do we know who bought her?"

"There's a new office at the Ministry," said Daphne at once, sounding as if she'd already gone over this with Ron before Harry had been awake, "Whenever a Mudblood is purchased, Oh don't give me that look, that's just what they're called now! Anyway, whenever a _muggleborn_ is purchased, the purchaser gets to change his or her name. The muggleborns are given a new first name and they are given their master's surname. I am sure it would be relatively easy for me to sneak in there and look up those four names to see what their masters changed their names to, which would tell us the surname of the blokes who bought them, then we can go from there."

Harry groaned and dropped his head into his hands, "It's already bloody _August_," he growled. "It's going to take us ages to find her!"

"Harry, you're not…you're not suggesting that we…that we give up, are you?" Ron knew what Harry was thinking. It was the same thing he'd been thinking every day also. Had they made the right choice in choosing to search for Hermione over searching for Horcruxes?

"Maybe! No! I don't know!" Harry bellowed. "We have other things, Ron, other things that we _need _to be doing!"

"I know," said Ron calmly, "let's set us a deadline, okay, mate? Let's give it just _one more week_ and then we'll work on…on those other things that need our attention." He had glanced evasively at Daphne as he spoke. "Let's go to this last shop where they sell muggleborns, get their names list, and then investigate the girls who sound like they could be Hermione."

"A week?" Harry repeated.

"Yes," Ron agreed.

"Alright, but if that's all the time we have then I don't want to sit at home while you two go off shopping for slaves."

"I'm sorry," Daphne piped up, "but Harry fucking Potter can't just walk in and ask to buy a Mudblood. No amount of transfiguring your features will guarantee your safety either."

"Then what can I do?" Harry sounded desperate.

"I'll give you a glass of Polyjuice Potion with my hair in it. You can go to the Ministry as me and sneak into the room with the Mudblood names and what they're changed to."

"Why can't I go with Ron to the shop and you go into the Ministry?"

Daphne smirked at him, "You have a bit of a weakness for playing the hero, Potter. If you walk into a shop where they are selling muggleborn witches and wizards, what are you going to do? Rescue them. You wouldn't leave until they were all free, but then you would either give yourself away or condemn me because you'd be wearing my face. No, I'm sorry, but I'm going with Ron. We don't need you to ruin everything by being a Gryffindor."

Harry's teeth grated together and he wanted to argue with her, but deep down he knew there was some truth to her words. He would try to save everybody there and that could get them all into big trouble. "Fine," he snapped, "where's the bloody Polyjuice Potion?"

….

One hour later, Harry stood awkwardly in the sitting room wearing witch's robes and looking like an exact copy of Daphne Greengrass. She was tall, he noted vaguely, as looked around, and it felt weird to not need his glasses. When he peeked at himself in the mirror, pretty aquamarine eyes stared back at him.

_Sweet Merlin_, he prayed silently, _Don't let me have to use the loo until I've changed back into myself._

"All right, Harry?" asked Ron with a smile as he clapped him on the shoulder. Harry grunted in response and it was weird to hear his grunt sound so…girly.

"Remember," said Daphne as she handed him her special coin that allowed her to gain entrance into the Ministry, "Strut around as if you own the place. If anybody asks why you've come in on your day off, tell them you left important paperwork in your office. The room you need to find will be on Level 3. Gregory Goyle's father works in there, so talk with him as if you're long time friends. Ask how Goyle is, ask if he's bought a Mudblood. It's important that you use the actual word, Potter! Bring the conversation around to selling Mudbloods then ask to see the list. When he shows it to you, create a diversion, grab the list and _get out of there_. Poor Goyle is so thick that he probably won't even remember showing you the list to begin with. Understood?"

"Yes," Harry groaned.

"Turn around, let me make sure that you're me," Harry obeyed the command, turning around uncomfortably on the spot, with his arms out for her to inspect. "Well, Potter, I must say, you've never looked hotter." She winked at him and Ron guffawed.

"Good luck, mate," said Ron sincerely.

"You too," Harry and Ron locked eyes for a moment before Harry strode out of the house.

…

Harry didn't have any trouble at all. He couldn't believe his luck. Then again, it wasn't really luck, it was just a matter of following Daphne's instructions exactly. "Hullo, Daphne," said a middle-aged witch Harry didn't recognize.

"Hu-Hullo." Harry stuttered, smiling.

"Working much too hard, I see," the witch teased, "Coming in on Saturday."

"Yes, well, I left important paperwork in my office. As soon as I retrieve it I'll be going straight back home."

"But, dear, your office is up on Level 5! Whatever are you doing on Level 3?"

"Goyle!" Harry almost shouted, relieved that he could answer this question without sounding suspicious, "he's an old family friend and I know he's working in the-the Mudblood slave office. I fancied paying him a visit and asking what Gregory is up to these days."

"Oh, that's lovely of you. Well, here's my office, good day to you, Daphne."

"Er-same to you."

Yet again feeling as if this were much too easy to be true, Harry had reached his destination. Without knocking, he gently turned the handle and stepped inside of the office. There were Interdepartmental Memos buzzing around the place, and in the middle of the small space was a big man hunched over a desk scribbling on some parchment.

"Mr. Goyle," Harry simpered, slightly over the top, trying to act as a female would, "It's been simply ages! However are you doing?"

Mr. Goyle looked startled and Harry had to work to choke back his laughter at the dumbfounded expression that so resembled his son's. "Daphne," he said with a curt nod, "What brings you by?"

"I heard that you were working Saturdays and thought I would stop by to see how you were doing."

"If I were you," said Goyle with relish, "I would be more concerned about how _you_ are doing than how I am doing."

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked Harry, trying and failing to talk in the haughty tone Daphne used.

"Your father changed his mind yet?"

"About what?"

"About serving the Dark Lord," Goyle whispered the last part, "See, the Dark Lord wants your family on his side something awful. If I were you, I would be worried that he might be…very displeased with you lot right now."

"Perhaps," said Harry, becoming angry that he wasn't sure how much time he had left as Daphne's double and they hadn't even started talking about Mudbloods yet, "it will appease the Dark Lord to know that I am looking into purchasing a Mudblood."

"Are you now?" asked Goyle with a sneer, "That will be the day! Glad to see you have more wizarding pride than your father. When I asked if he wanted one, he looked at me like I was a nutter!"

"Do…do many of the wizarding community have them now?" Harry batted his long eyelashes.

"Yes. You would be surprised by some of the names I'm given."

"Oh really?" Harry was shocked at how Goyle was playing right into his hands, "I simply must see this list!"

"Of course, it's right here," Goyle pulled out a rather long piece of parchment and brandished it at Daphne, "Look here! The Brown family has one…and old Xenophilius Lovegood, too!" Goyle laughed loudly and Harry forced himself to as well.

"This is hysterical," Harry readily agreed, "I can't wait to tell my sister about some of these names!" Harry was subtly reaching into the pocket of the robes for a Decoy Detonator.

"Astoria," he snorted, "I always knew you two were close."

His fingers grazed the cool object and then he had a better idea. "Oh, look, what's that?" Harry pointed to a plaque on the wall. As expected, Goyle turned toward it immediately to see what Harry was pointing at. The moment his head turned, Harry flicked his wand, and a perfect duplicate of the parchment appeared. Harry dropped the real copy onto the desk and stuffed the fake copy into his robes.

"That is the award I got for capturing five Mudbloods in one night! The Minister himself came here to give it to me. Of course, that was back when I was working as a Snatcher."

"Fascinating! I'm afraid I must be off now, though. Lovely seeing you, Mr. Goyle!" Harry waved to him and backed out of the office quickly. With an extra skip in his step, he made it safely out of the Ministry and back to Daphne's house in record time. Sighing, he sank down onto the sofa and felt his hands and face start to change. Laughing, he couldn't help thinking to himself, _That's the first time that something actually went exactly according to plan in my life_.

…..

Daphne and Ron left right after Harry. "Can we apparate into Hogsmeade?" asked Ron.

"Yes, they only put up the Charms at night."

He nodded once and offered her his arm. Smiling at him shyly, Daphne tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and let him lead the apparition.

When they landed safely, she breathed deeply, and said, "This way, he said that it was in Honeydukes."

"In…in Honeydukes? As in, Honeydukes has gone out of business?" Ron sounded shocked and appalled.

"No, silly," Daphne grinned at him, "I mean that the wizard who took over the shop is now selling candy _and _muggleborns," she sighed, "What is this world coming to? Imagine taking your child to the store, and saying, 'Oh, here, dear, have a lollipop, and while we're at it, let's pick up a witch!'"

"You really are against him, aren't you? You-Know-Who?" Ron had a hard time for a while believing that Daphne was truly on their side. When they first came to her home, he would barely eat the food she cooked and slept with one eye open, but he had come to really trust her and somewhat rely on her. She wasn't superior to him with intelligence, or if she was, she didn't flaunt it the way Hermione did. She always treated Ron with respect, like an equal, and they shared a unique sense of humor. Truthfully, he enjoyed her company. If one good thing came out of this whole ordeal, it was that he had made a new friend and ally.

"Of course I am," she said angrily, "my whole family is, of course, though I don't know how much longer that will last. The Dark Lord has been trying to recruit my father ever since he returned to power. I live everyday looking over my shoulder. It would be his style, you know, to kill the family to get to the man he wants. But I won't go down without a fight, and I can only pray to Merlin that if I am killed my father won't give in."

"You sure you're a Slytherin? You sounded an awful bloody lot like a Gryffindor there."

She laughed, "A bit like a Hufflepuff, too, I expect. I might cunning and deceitful, but I'm also loyal and I can be brave if…if I care about the people enough," when she said this, her cheeks turned slightly red. So did Ron's.

"Here we are," said Ron, his voice a bit deeper all of a sudden, "thanks for Transfiguring my face, by the way. Nobody will recognize me like this," he motioned to his face which didn't look anything like the face of Ronald Weasley.

"Good day," said Daphne as she stepped into the shop, "my husband and I were in the market for a Mudblood," she smiled at the woman behind the counter and Ron choked; she hadn't told him that their cover story was being married.

"Male or female?" the woman asked in a business like fashion.

"Oh a female," said Daphne with a giggle, "A, um, very specific female actually. There was a Mudblood girl we used to know who my husband always wanted to…well, you know. We heard that she was captured by Traders and we were wondering if you have her here. What was her name, dear?" Daphne turned to Ron, "Stacy? Stephanie?"

"I don't remember," Ron was playing the role very well, "didn't matter what her name was, did it? Just a dirty old Mudblood. With one nice arse, of course."

"It's going to be his birthday present," said Daphne to the lady.

"I'm afraid I don't know if I have the girl you are looking for or not," the woman told her with a frown, "It's possible I already sold her. I did sell a Stacy yesterday."

"Would it be possible to take a look at the list of Mudbloods you've sold? I'm positive I would recognize her surname if I saw it," Daphne asked with a small pout.

"Well, I suppose," the lady bent down behind the counter and pulled out a roster.

"Thank you," said Daphne with a smile as she took the parchment, "My husband and I will just look this over quickly to see if we can spot her name."

The lady nodded and then moved to help other customers who were coming into the shop. "Hurry up and make a copy," Ron whispered. Daphne obeyed, and then turned back to the woman as Ron stuffed the copy of names into his pocket.

"I'm awfully sorry but I didn't see her name anywhere on here. Looks like we'll have to look for her in Diagon Alley, love," Daphne said apologetically to Ron. "My darling husband," she turned back to the cashier, "likes to be a bit freaky in bed. I hope we find this elusive Mudblood, make things exciting between the three of us," she slapped Ron's arse a bit too enthusiastically and Ron forced a smile.

As soon as they were outside, Daphne and Ron were both laughing hard, "Did you see your face?" Daphne asked between giggles, "When I said you were my husband? I thought you were going to turn darker red than your natural hair color!"

"I wasn't nearly as embarrassed by that as I was about the comment about me being _freaky_ in bed. I mean, threesomes? Really?"

"Oh come on, you know it's every boy's dream, Mr. Greengrass!"

"Mr…oh, sweetheart," he teased, "if we were married, I would still be Mr. Weasley, it would be your surname that would change!"

"But it just doesn't sound as good," Daphne argued, still chuckling, "Daphne Weasley….no, no, Ronald Greengrass sounds _much _better," she assured him.

He rolled his eyes, still smiling, and without any warning, Daphne stretched up, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Ron was pushed back against a brick wall of a shop and Daphne pressed herself firmly against him. He could feel every curve of her body, and that thought alone made him moan aloud. She kissed him expertly, her lips and tongue moving in ways that made Ron feel like his head was spinning.

Strangely, Daphne felt the same way. It had never felt like this to kiss any other boy she had kissed before. It was so different. Something about Ronald Weasley tasted almost spicey and a bit dangerous. When he put his large hands on her shoulders and very gently pushed her away from him, Daphne knew two things at once; one, she had fallen for him hard, and two, he was still in love with Hermione Granger.

"Daph…I'm, I'm sorry, but it's just…"

"Her," said Daphne with a sad smile, "I know. There's no need for you to explain yourself. I apologize for assaulting your face with my lips. I'd appreciate it if you didn't press charges," she teased. Ron knew what she was doing though, and he could see right through it. It was the same defense mechanism he used; when you're hurt, be funny.

"But….I like you, too," he sounded pained as the words left his mouth, "Merlin, it's hard to say, but it's true. I like you, Daphne Greengrass."

"But you _love_ her," Daphne guessed.

"I feel like I could love you, if I let myself," said Ron, being more honest with a person than he'd ever been in his entire life, "however, it would just feel…well, wrong to be with you while Hermione is out there somewhere. Suffering. Alone. Waiting for us to rescue her. She's been with me through a hell of a lot, and it would be an awful way to repay her by showing up to rescue her with you on my arm."

"She's a very lucky girl, but don't worry, I understand," said Daphne, and she did, "It's just…even though my parents are against Voldemort, they still demand that I marry a pureblood. I have lived my entire life believing that I would never be able to marry for love. I grew up knowing so many pureblood boys but I never really liked any of them. Then you came out of fucking _nowhere_, and I thought…I thought maybe that I had found what I never thought I would find. I thought that just maybe I found a boy who my parents would approve of and also who I could love." Tears had sprung up in her eyes, and she had both of her hands pressed against Ron's chest.

Ron sighed and hugged her in close to him, "I'm not rejecting you," he said, "I'm just saying…not now. I need to focus on finding Hermione and helping Harry destroy…You-Know-Who. Then, maybe, we will see where we are."

Daphne pulled back from him and wiped at her eyes, "Alright, yes, you're right. Let's just focus on one thing at a time. Finding Hermione Granger is the priority here. Let's get home and look at this list. Harry probably beat us home."

Ron took her hand in his, and together they walked slowly through Hogsmeade, just for that short amount of time, doing nothing more than enjoying being with each other.

…..

When they finally apparated back to Daphne's house, they found Harry pouring over a very long piece of parchment. "Blimey," said Ron, "is that the list of all of the sold muggleborns?" his face had gone exceptionally pale.

"Yes," said Harry, "and I found all four of those girls. Jean Foster is now Cherry Selwyn. Ginger Smith is now Scarlett Lovegood, Penelope Rogers is now Candy Crabbe, and Heather Gryffin is Kitten Malfoy."

"I think we can eliminate Lovegood and Malfoy," said Ron, "they would both have recognized Hermione. The Malfoys are fucking Death Eaters. If they had bought Hermione Granger, then she would have been turned over to You-Know-Who by now. Lovegood would have traded her to Death Eaters for something, too, I'm sure of it."

"Just the same," argued Daphne, "we should check them out. Draco always hated Hermione, it's possible he didn't hand her over to the Dark Lord simply because he enjoys having Hermione Granger at his command. Lovegood could just be stupid enough to not hand her over," she shrugged.

"Then how will we get close enough to these people to find out?" asked Harry.

"Leave that to me, darling," said Daphne, "I'm a pureblood Slytherin, remember? Making a house call to my dear old friends, Crabbe and Malfoy wouldn't be out of the norm. Selwyn will be a bit more difficult. The only Selwyn I can think of who would buy a Mudblood is an old rich pureblood wizard who lives out in Wiltshire, close to the Malfoys. Then there's Lovegood, which again isn't any big deal, really. We'll just walk right up to his house and peek in the windows."

Before they could go any further with their plans, a bright silver patronus came soaring into the room and landed, taking the form of a chipmunk, "Help," was all it said. Daphne shrieked.

"My sister!" she cried, "I have to get home! The Death Eaters! They must have come for my family!"

"We'll go with you," said Harry, who couldn't bare sending Daphne off to fight Death Eaters by herself.

"No," she objected, "If they catch you….Harry, they can't! They can't catch you!"

"We're coming," Ron looked straight into her eyes and she knew nothing she could say would dissuade them.

…..

Daphne, Ron, and Harry could only apparate directly into the Greengrass home if Daphne took them. So they each grabbed hold of her, and she spun on the spot. With a loud _crack!_ they landed in the kitchen of her home. They could hear screams coming from above them. Screams of a young, small, tortured girl.

"Astoria," Daphne breathed her sister's name and clutched at her chest.

"She needs you," Ron said sternly, "pull it together, Daph, don't go all Slytherin on us now and run away."

His words had the desired effect. Her eyes sparked with renewed fire and she led the charge up the stairs into the sitting room. Her parents were on one side of the room, watching with horror. Every time they moved forward, a masked Death Eater would snap his hand and they would be flung back into the wall. Her sister, Astoria, was on the ground as two masked Death Eaters circled her, taking turns casting spells.

"STOP!" Daphne commanded as she charged into the room. There was a moment when all eyes in the room set on Daphne, her wand at the ready, her head held high, a snarl on her lips. Then the Death Eaters all began to laugh.

Until they noticed who she had brought with her. "It's Potter!" growled one.

"Catch him!" Yelled another, and a fight ensued.

They each had their own Death Eater and it wasn't hard to see who was winning each battle. Ron was winning his, and Daphne definitely had the upper hand, fueled by her rage and adrenaline, but Harry was struggling badly. Whoever this Death Eater was, Harry couldn't touch him. The thought occurred to him that he could lose. What would happen if he did? They moved closer as they dueled, Harry and his masked Death Eater. Ron's Death Eater fell with a scream and Daphne's followed a moment later. Harry was dueling as fast and as ferociously as he could, but suddenly the wizard he was dueling stopped and stepped back.

"It seems," said a familiar silky voice that made Harry's insides squirm. _Severus Snape_, "that I am clearly outnumbered." He swooped down onto his two fallen comrades, and with a crack they were gone. Daphne rushed to her family, as they sat huddled on the floor together. Daphne cried, her tears soaking the hair of her little sister.

"I'm okay, Nee," said Astoria, though a bit shakily, "I'm okay, really."

Peneus Greengrass stood up and gazed strangely at Harry and Ron, "Thank you," he said sincerely, "thank you for saving my daughter. I'm afraid…I'm afraid that my family will have to go into hiding now. Blimey I don't even know how to do that." He looked frightened.

"Go to my house," said Ron at once, "here, I'll write a letter for you to take to my parents, and I'll tell you about where my house is. It's under a Fidelius Charm, you see, and my dad's the Secret Keeper so I can't tell you exactly where my house is. But just….go here," Daphne was handing Ron a quill and parchment and he was scribbling down instructions, "Yell out to them that I sent you. To prove it, say something like…oh! I know! Tell them that the ghoul who lives in our attic pretended to be me with Spattergroit so I didn't have to go back to Hogwarts last year."

Ron took a few minutes to write instructions for the Greengrass family and a letter to his parents. "There you are," said Ron, handing both pieces of parchment to Mr. Greengrass.

"Daphne, do you think this is a good idea? Do you trust this man?" her father inquired.

"I'd trust him with my life," Daphne vowed, "I think it's an excellent idea. I have no doubt that the Weasley's will accommodate you as best they can."

"What about you? Aren't you coming with us?" asked her mother.

"No," said Daphne, "I'm going to stay in the wizarding community just a bit longer and see what good I can do. Be safe." Daphne hugged and kissed each member of her family before they disapparted to Ottery St. Catchpole.

…

**A/N: A few notes about this chapter: 1. The events all happened quickly because I wanted to fit them all into one chapter. 2. There is more about to happen with Harry, Ron, and Daphne but I decided to separate it into two separate chapters. I haven't decided if I'm going to put in a Hermione chapter between them or just do two Ron and Harry chapters in a row. Suggestions? 3. I know it seems like Ron and Daphne just sort of happened randomly, but keep in mind that this is not a story about Ron and Daphne. Harry and Ron have been living in Daphne's house just as long as Hermione has been living with Draco at this point, we just haven't seen the progression of Ron and Daphne's relationship like we have Draco and Hermione's. 4. Ron and Daphne have a fun and sort of funny dynamic; they have the same sense of humor and they're both a bit goofy but in a good way. **

**Also, unlike a lot of Dramoine authors, I **_**like**_** Ron. I think he's a great character. Therefore there will not be any Ron bashing from me. However I didn't just throw in a random girl character so Ron wasn't heartbroken. It would have been much easier to start my story with Ron and Hermione not having any feelings for each other aside from friendship, but I wanted Harry and Ron to have some unexpected help from a Slytherin in their year at Hogwarts and Daphne came to mind. The way I portray her character goes well with the way I portray Ron and I think they make a cute couple. What are your thoughts? **

**Love the reviews, they encourage me to update faster!**

**Yours,**

**MofDA**


	14. Deception

**A/N: I apologize for how long it took me to update my story. I feel like I apologize for that a lot. I know I never actually said, "hey, I'll be updating my story this often…" but I TRY to update as often as I can! But there was stuff! School stuff, family stuff, holiday stuff, and now I'm sick. What better opportunity to sit down and write than when I'm already stuck on the couch for a few days? I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! All recognizable characters, ideas, events, places, etc. belong to JK Rowling.**

…**.**

"Daphne fucking Greengrass was at St. Mungo's today," said Draco angrily as he pushed the food on his plate around with his fork.

"Is that a bad thing?" asked Hermione with a frown.

"No, except she was there to see me."

"What about?"

"Her father," said Draco with the air of someone beginning a very long story, "has been refusing to join the ranks of the Death Eaters. The Dark Lord is growing impatient, and the Greengrass's know this. They think that it will help them survive if Daphne marries. Not just marries a Pureblood, but a Death Eater."

Hermione felt like her heart dropped into her stomach. Daphne wanted to marry Draco in order to protect her family from Voldemort's wrath? "How cowardly!" She spat with such venom that Draco was surprised, "what a sneaky, conniving thing to do!"

Draco snorted, "Well she is a Slytherin, Kitten."

"So what happened? What did you say?" Hermione couldn't help but get her hopes up that Draco turned her down.

"I told her I wasn't interested, of course. But damn it, Granger, what was I supposed to do? What happens if my refusing her hand results in her death? How could I live with myself?" he shook his head, "I don't know what you've done to me, witch, but ever since you've been living with me I've gotten soft. I can't stand the idea of someone hurting because of me."

"Did you change your mind then?" Hermione asked in a small voice. If he did, she wouldn't blame him. It's not like they could truly be together in this world anyway. If Draco could save Daphne's life, whether they were in love or not didn't really matter.

"No," he growled the word, "but she kept insisting. She asked if she could at least have dinner here on Friday night. I agreed to that. Just so you're prepared, Daphne will be here at 6 o'clock Friday evening to have dinner. Since you're supposed to be nothing more than my servant…" he let his sentence trail off, not looking her in the eye as he spoke.

"I'll stay out of the way," her voice was still small; quiet…and Draco hated it. He hated having reduced her to the fragile slave girl that she was supposed to have been.

"Hermione, I-"

"No," she interrupted, "It's no problem, Draco, I understand. I know my _place_," angrily, she leapt up from her seat, flung her plate, still full of food, into the sink and stormed off to her bedroom.

He heard her door slam shut forcefully before whispering to himself, "I was going to say that I think I'm in love with you…"

…..

"Alright," Daphne took off her cloak and flung it toward the coat rack, which magically moved in order to catch her cloak before it fell to the floor, "I'm going to Lovegood's tomorrow under the false pretense of being interested in something-horned-snorck thingy. Wednesday I'm going to Selwyn's under the guise of being interested in purchasing some old books he's been trying to sell. Then Friday I'm going to Draco's flat for dinner. I stopped by St. Mungo's today because I knew Draco is studying to be a Healer. Come to find out, he doesn't live with his parents anymore. I know Lucius doesn't own a Mudblood because Narcissa would never allow it. At least, she wouldn't allow him to buy a witch seeing as how they're mostly for…well, anyway, I'd bet all the money in Gringotts that Draco is the one who owns Heather Gryffin."

Ron stood there with his mouth agape, taking a moment to catch everything she had said. Harry, however, gazed at her a moment before asking, "What about Crabbe?"

"Well, I stopped by his flat this afternoon. I just dropped in to say hello. Saw his girl, and she's definitely not Hermione."

"What if Hermione managed to transfigure her own looks before they took her?" suggested Harry.  
>"No one could have transfigured her so well. This girl spoke perfect German and was Hermione's exact opposite as far as looks go."<p>

"What do you mean…" Ron seemed to be struggling with putting his thoughts into words, "Narcissa wouldn't allow Lucius to own a Mudblood?"

Harry and Daphne exchanged a serious look. "Girls are sold primarily for, well, sexual reasons," Daphne told him quietly.

Ron dropped his head into his hands, "I had assumed that, of course," they heard his muffled words through his fingers, "I just didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to have it confirmed. Whatever bloke bought her is…is doing _that_ to her."

"There's always the possibility that none of these girls are Hermione and that she was bought by a witch who wanted a maid. Or a nice Pureblood family who needed a housekeeper or nanny. It's unlikely, but possible," said Daphne.

"But it's more likely," Ron raised his head, his eyes were now bloodshot as tears leaked out of them, "that some bloke is fucking her against her will. That he has been ever since she was first captured."

"I'm sorry," whispered Daphne.

"Ron, mate, why do you think Hermione has been our priority all this time instead of You-Know-Who? None of us want Hermione to suffer in anyway, especially that way."

Ron felt sick to his stomach. Positively sick. He wanted to throttle someone. Or possibly throw up. Whichever happened first. Trying hard to think of something else, anything else, Ron asked Daphne, "What story did you make up to Malfoy in order to get yourself invited over to his flat for dinner?"

She blushed scarlet at his question and Ron felt even worse than he had a moment ago. Finally, Daphne admitted, "Well, I might have expressed a slight interest in him."

"You…have a date. With Malfoy?"

"Sort of. Not really. It's not a _real_ date, Ronald."

"You're not planning on…shagging him, are you?"

"No! Blimey, no! I shared a House with him at Hogwarts for seven years. I know Draco Malfoy well enough to know that I don't want to be anywhere near him. He had quite a reputation amongst the female population for being good in bed and a reputation amongst the males for being immersed deeply in the Dark Arts. Neither of which interests me." The look she gave Ron was heavy with unspoken things.

"I'm…well, I'm glad." Ron finally said, his ears turning red.

"Come on," Harry clapped a hand on Ron's shoulder, "let's just get some dinner and concentrate on one thing at a time. Lovegood, Selwyn, Malfoy, then we'll see where we are."

Ron nodded in agreement, but inside his head was spinning. They had lost so many months looking for Hermione, but what if it was too late to save her? For the first time since her capture, Ron was the one battling himself internally. All of this was because of Voldemort, and here he was, selfishly putting one girl above everyone else in the country.

With a grimace, he stood to follow Harry to the kitchen, and the same sentence ran through his head on repeat, '_if it was anyone but Hermione…'_

….

"Good afternoon, my dear!" Daphne was greeted graciously at the door of Xenophilus Lovegood's house. He excitedly ushered her into the sitting room, where there was a coffee table piled with old editions of _The Quibbler_.

"You have a lovely home," she said conversationally.

Lovegood waved away the compliment and it was obvious that he was anxious to get down to business, "Here is every issue ever printed that mentions the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. At one time I was lucky enough to own the horn of one of the beautiful creatures, but unfortunately, there was an explosion in my home and the horn was one of the casualties."

"I'm…sorry to hear that," said Daphne in a tone that held no detectable sorrow or sympathy.

"Yes, well, even without such a hard piece of evidence, it is apparent that the creatures do exist. You said that the ministry was interested in evidence of their existence, correct?"

"Er, yes," Daphne was barely paying any attention to Mr. Lovegood. Instead, her eyes were searching his residence for any sign of his servant. "I'm awfully sorry, Mr. Lovegood, but I'm very parched. Would it be possible for me to have a refreshment?"

"Oh, beg my pardon, I should have offered!" Instead of calling for a servant, as she had expected him to do, he leapt to his feet and practically ran out of sight. She assumed he was on his way to the kitchen.

Groaning in exasperation, she rubbed her eyes tiredly. She would make sure this trip was worthwhile. Maybe she could fake having to use the loo and actually wander around looking for the elusive girl. Ginger Smith. Er, that used to be her name. She went by Scarlett Lovegood now, if Daphne remembered correctly.

Just then, a young blonde girl came skipping into the room. If Daphne had to guess, the girl looked to be around six years old. "Oh," the little girl squeaked upon seeing Daphne, "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" Daphne retorted in surprise.

"I'm not really sure," the girl replied with a frown, "my name used to be Grace, but everyone calls me Lena now."

"What are you doing here?" asked Daphne, her eyes still wide and dumbfounded.

"Mr. Lovegood bought my mum. She's down at the market buying groceries."

"He bought….your _mum_? So what, you came along, too? Were you a package deal?"

"He felt bad for her," said the girl, still frowning, "My mum was arrested for being a _mudblood_. I don't have a dad, so they brought me along, too. They were going to separate us, and sell us separately, but Mr. Lovegood came into Honeydukes. He said that I looked a lot like his daughter. Mum begged him to buy her, too, so he did. He brought us both home with him. He's really nice to us and Mum seems really happy here."

Daphne felt torn. She wanted to smile at the odd act of kindness Mr. Lovegood had shown these people, but she wanted to cry at the idea of orphaned children of muggle-borns being sold. She had no idea they could or would sell _children_.

At least she could cross another name off of the list. Ginger Smith, mother of Grace Smith, was definitely not Hermione Granger.

Just then, Xenophilius came back into the room holding a tray with two teacups on it, "Now, as I was saying, there is still plenty of evidence that Crumple-Horned Snorkacks exist…"

…

Daphne hadn't been to the Ministry since the incident with her family. She was officially in hiding. Going to see Lovegood had been a minimal risk, but Circe Selwyn was a supporter of Voldemort. He had children, and grandchildren, who were Death Eaters, but he himself preferred to stay out of direct involvement, just watching from the sidelines.

Old Circe Selwyn lived in a mansion as big as the Malfoy's, which wasn't too far away. Daphne kept up a brisk pace, glancing around her nervously as she approached the wrought iron gates. They opened for her magically, obviously she was expected.

"Ah, Ms. Greengrass," he was sitting on his porch as it was a warm August evening.

"Hullo, Mr. Selwyn," she was still looking around nervously, as if expecting Death Eaters to jump out at her from the bushes, "it's lovely to see you again," she offered him her hand, and he took it, lightly brushing his lips over her knuckles. She barely resisted the urge to wipe it off on her robes.

He stood shakily, with the help of a cane, and wobbled into his house, beckoning her to follow. Swiftly, she moved into the home and shut the large front door behind her, breathing a sigh of relief. So far, so good.

With trepidation she realized how uncomfortable she felt here. It was so dark, there were many shadows, suits of armor, creepy paintings whose occupants' eyes followed her as she moved. "In here, Dear!" Selwyn called from an adjacent room.

Daphne held her head high, refusing to look at the portraits that were staring at her, as she made her way into the room. She pulled back the hood of her light summer cloak, her long ebony hair falling out to frame her lovely face. "I'm very interested in some of the titles you mentioned in your letter," she said quickly.

"Ah, yes. I've had that ad in the newspaper for two months now! You're only the third person to owl me about them. I sold one of my darker ones to Borgin and Burkes. A few more to an elderly witch from Yorkshire. But I have a whole library of books that I need to be rid of! To be honest, young lady, I am an old man. I don't have need for these anymore, and I know my family won't appreciate them as they should be appreciated."

Daphne smiled, "I will be sure to cherish whichever ones I buy, Mr. Selwyn."

"Oh, I know you will, Dear! I was very close to your great-grandfather. Milton and I were friends at Hogwarts. I was very sorry to hear he passed away a few years ago," he frowned, seemingly stuck in a memory.

There was a short pause before Daphne lied, "Yes, he mentioned you often. He was very fond of you."

"I should think he would be! Saved his skin from Grindelwald once, I did! Fascinating story! We were in Hungary, traveling the world for a summer, when we found ourselves in a brothel!" He gave a big laugh and Daphne forced a weak chuckle. "Don't know how we got there," he said with a furrowed brow and shake of his head, "I said to him we ought not go into that place, but we were both drunk, and he talked me into it, so in we went…"

Over two hours later, Daphne sat at a table in the library, across from Selwyn, who was still rambling. Her elbow was on the table and her chin was resting in her hand as she struggled to keep her eyes open. She had long ago given up her attempt to look enthralled at his stories. "…then Milton says to me, he says, 'Selwyn, you fool, those were doxy eggs!'" he threw back his head and laughed. Daphne blinked. He wiped away tears from his eyes that had appeared as a result of his laughter.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Daphne nearly jumped out of her seat at the sound of a distinctively feminine voice, "but an owl just arrived for you, Mr. Selwyn." A lady who looked to be around fifty years of age, came into the room. Daphne didn't even need to study her closely to know that this was not the girl she was looking for. The woman, along with being middle-aged, was plump, had a dark skin tone, and had just a hint of a French accent.

"Thank you, Cherry," he said merrily as he rocked back and forth in his chair before finally gaining enough momentum to push himself up out of the seat. Leaning heavily on his cane, he wobbled toward his maid, took the envelope and returned to Daphne's side. "Seems I'm needed at the Ministry," he sighed sadly, "were there any books you wanted?"

Daphne knew it would look suspicious to leave empty handed, so with just the right amount of enthusiasm, she said eagerly, "Oh, yes, I skimmed through these three and I think they're just what I was looking for." She handed him the gold he asked for, pulled the hood of her cloak back on, rushed out of the house, and once she was back on the street, spun on the spot and disapparated.

…..

Nervously, Daphne stepped into the apartment complex. It was invisible to muggles, of course, but then again, many places were. As she glided into the lift, she took a moment to run a hand through her hair, smooth her skirt, and apply just a dab of lip gloss. She had, after all, told Malfoy she was interested in him. Appearances were everything, especially to a Malfoy.

The lift came to a stop and Daphne felt butterflies in her stomach. Damn it, she was shaking. Would Malfoy expect her to sleep with him? What if he made a move? How could she say no when she had practically thrown herself at him the other day?

She knocked on the door, heard mumbling on the other side, then it opened. With a forced smile, she looked up into the grey eyes of Draco Malfoy. He had a slight scowl, but that wasn't exactly out of the ordinary. "Daphne," he said shortly, "Come in."

"Thank you, Draco." Daphne slipped off her cloak, and handed it to him.

"I'm, er, sorry," he said, looking at the ground, "about what happened to your family."

Daphne panicked internally. Merlin, she'd been stupid! Of course he would know about that, he was a fucking Death Eater! What if he turned her over right now? But no, he looked genuinely sorry. What the hell was that about? The Malfoy she knew had no sympathy.

"It's fine, but in case it wasn't obvious, I can't exactly go about parading my presence in wizarding places anymore. Which is why I'm here," she lied smoothly, with perfection.

"I'm aware," he eyed her with an edge of suspicion, as if he could see through her façade just for a moment. "Please, come into the kitchen, my mudblood just poured us some wine."

Trying to not appear too anxious, she let him lead her into the next room. With disappointment, she realized they were the only two in the kitchen. Apparently Draco liked his mudblood the same way he liked his old house elf; not in sight of the guests. Well damn, that was going to hinder her plans just slightly.

He handed her a glass, and she cleared her throat before saying, "Be honest with me, Draco. Do you think it would help my family at all to marry you?"

"The Dark Lord…..is displeased," he replied evenly, taking a small sip from his own glass. "However, if you were to marry a Death Eater, it would without a doubt help you. I'm not sure about the rest of your family, but you would be spared, probably Astoria as well, your mother maybe. Your father, however…I'm sorry, Daphne, but I don't think any amount of pleading on my part could save him from The Dark Lord's wrath."

Daphne downed the glass in a few gulps. "I see," she said, fingering the stem of her empty glass, "but it would help my mother and sister, you say?"

"Well, there's no promise it would, of course," Draco said, appearing nervous, "but if I had to guess, I would say yes, it would save them. But Daphne, why me? No offense or anything, but you never showed me the slightest bit of interest while we were at Hogwarts together. I haven't even seen you since graduation."

"Oh, Draco," she gave a feminine giggle, "who else would it be?" she purred as she stroked the front of his shirt, caressing his chest, "We both know Zabini is not a Death Eater. Crabbe and Goyle are absolute buffoons, and Theo is engaged to Sally-Anne, although everyone knows he cheats on her all the time."

Draco gazed down curiously at her hand as it toyed with the buttons on his shirt. For a moment he worried that perhaps he should have dressed in wizards' robes instead of this muggle attire, but instead of worrying about his clothing, he focused on the girl before him. Calmly, he wrapped his slender fingers around her wrist and removed her hand from his person.

"Those are just the wizards in our year. Britain is full of Death Eaters, love," his voice was low. It held just a light threat which confused Daphne. He was rejecting her advances. What in the bloody hell was going on? Draco Malfoy being concerned? Rejecting her? There was no explanation, except maybe, just maybe, there was already a girl in Draco's life. But no, then he would have told Daphne before letting her come over for dinner to discuss an arrangement between the two of them. Unless he was in love with a muggle or a mudblood?

Daphne stiffened. "Listen, Draco," she said seriously, "You are the most obvious option. I know that we weren't exactly the best of friends at Hogwarts, but we have always gotten along just fine! Our parents even tried to set us up together once, if you remember! I don't understand why this is so bloody difficult for you! I know you're not in love with me, I'm not in love with you either, but if we could somehow make this work, it could help both of us!"

Draco looked at her curiously for a moment, but before he could respond, a loud buzzing noise went off in the kitchen, causing both of them to jump. A petite girl rushed in, barely sparing them a glance, "Don't mind me," she grumbled with slight agitation, "I'm just getting your dinner out of the oven."

"Kitten," Draco growled her name in warning and Daphne couldn't help but frown in sympathy as the girl flinched. Daphne studied the girl closely. She was petite, like Hermione, the body type was right. The hair was off. So was her face. Even her eyes were different from Hermione Granger's. Damn it. If only Daphne could remember what Hermione's voice had sounded like. She had heard it almost every bloody day at Hogwarts whenever they had classes together and she would blurt out the answers. But Daphne had ignored her so studiously in school that she couldn't recall if she recognized the voice or not. Certainly, if she had been transfigured, this girl _could_ be Hermione. But Daphne couldn't be sure.

Draco turned from his servant, to wrap an arm around Daphne's waist. He guided her toward the sitting room when they heard the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. Daphne's head spun around to see Kitten Malfoy glaring at them, holding a shattered wine glass. Blood was dripping from her hand. She blinked few times, shook her head and said quietly while looking down, "I apologize, Master."

Draco Malfoy, however, reacted so unexpectedly that Daphne nearly fainted. He leapt across his tiny kitchen in a single bound. He very gently held the girl, and examined her hand. With eyes full of emotion, he brought his wand out of his pocket, waved it, and the hand was healed. He examined it from every angle before saying with admonishment, "Don't do that again, or so help me I'll...I'll"

"What? Stutter at me?" The mudblood snapped. Daphne clutched her throat. Surely Draco Malfoy would never let his servant speak to him like that and get away with it. Shocking her even more, Draco let out a soft chuckle. Then his eyes went wide as if realizing his reaction was out of character for him.

"Just get our damned dinner! No more delays because of your clumsiness either!" he grabbed Daphne roughly by the upper arm and dragged her into the sitting room. "What have you been doing since graduation?" he asked abruptly as he practically pushed her to sit down on the sofa.

"Um, working. At the Ministry," she said quickly, "but I haven't been back since the incident with my parents."

"Of course," Draco said with real kindness. Again, she thought something about him was off. Her suspicions were that he had feelings for his slave. But that still didn't mean that Heather Gryffin was Hermione Granger. "I suspect they're in hiding now as well."

"Yes, though don't ask me where," she glared at him in warning.

"I wasn't going to," he replied as he tipped his wineglass toward her, as if toasting her, and then sipped some more from it. Hers had magically refilled itself and sat now on the coffee table in front of her.

"Draco, I think it's safe for us to speak openly," she said quickly, scooting closer to him, "obviously you're not a very loyal Death Eater or else you would have taken me straight to You-Know-Who. It's also quite clear that I don't support him or else I wouldn't be in hiding right now. The question is, _why this sudden change of heart in you_?"

His face had drained of color, "I don't know what you're talking about." His eyes shifted uneasily around his apartment.

She snorted, "You can't lie to me, Draco, it's written all over your face. You're…kinder."

"I am not!" he shouted in indignation, as if she had just insulted him.

"Yes you are!" She yelled back, jumping to her feet, "Now tell me what the bloody hell is going on with you! If you were old Draco, you would have either asked me what you could benefit from our marriage, or you would have tossed me to the low-lives you associate yourself with and let them torture me for information about my family! So don't insult my intelligence by acting like I don't know something is different about you!"

Draco blinked at her. She sounded so much like Hermione that it disarmed him for a moment. He sighed, "Fine," he practically growled, then lowered his voice and said in a hushed whisper, "it's her," he jerked his head toward the kitchen where they could hear pots and pans clanging around.

"I knew it," Daphne said with smug triumph, "You've fallen for your mudblood!"

Draco opened his hands in a sign of surrender, nodded, and said, "I have. I…think of her not only as a real human being, but a real witch. She doesn't deserve this. She doesn't deserve to be my slave for the rest of her life. It's not fair; to any of them!" he was shaking in outrage and Daphne felt a rush of affection for Draco Malfoy that she had never had before. Without thinking, she hugged him. Finally, he had matured. A day she never thought would come.

An angry voice said with a bitter icy edge, "Excuse me," Draco and Daphne broke apart to look up at Kitten as she entered with two plates in her hands, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, _Master_, but here's your dinner," she practically threw the dishes at them then retreated quickly into another room.

"She seems fond of you as well," Daphne said sincerely.

Draco's mouth dropped open, "Are you mad? Didn't you see the venom in her actions? She hates me."

"No," Daphne said laughing, "she's _jealous, _Draco. She's only mad at you because I'm here and we're sort of on a date. Then she walked in on us hugging. You've never been good with emotions, especially emotions of women, but I assure you, she has feelings for you as well."

Draco sighed wistfully then glared at Daphne with such ferocity that for a moment she thought he might attack her, "If you tell _anyone_," he threatened, "I will find your family even if I have to scour the entire country, and I will kill them all myself."

"I…I understand," she said, slightly frightened of him. "Have you…have you ever considered helping Harry Potter?"

Draco was instantly suspicious. Did she know something? Did she know that he already had, in a sense, helped Harry Potter destroy Voldemort? That he was, at that very moment, doing all he could to assist in Voldemort's downfall? "I don't know if I would go that far," he said evasively.

She took a sip of wine as she thought about her next words, "Yes, but that could be the best chance you have of helping your…love."

Draco's frown deepened. "Be that as it may, I'm not sure I want to openly go against a wizard as powerful as the Dark Lord."

Daphne sighed, knowing she wasn't going to get any further with Draco or his mudblood. Not to mention, she simply wasn't hungry. Abruptly, she stood up, "If you change your mind," she looked deep into his eyes as she spoke, hoping he would sense her sincerity, "send me an owl. I would…well, let's just say, I'm not nearly as opposed to the idea as you are."

Without taking a single bite of the dinner Kitten Malfoy had made, she took her cloak from the closet pulled it over her shoulders and disappeared out the door, leaving a shocked Malfoy behind her.

She stared at the lift for a moment before it occurred to her that she would much rather take the stairs. She needed to move around. Racing down the staircase, she thought through her strange evening. The only solid information she had was that Draco Malfoy no longer supported Voldemort. That in and of itself was a huge accomplishment on his part. If only he would agree to help Harry! Imagine how wonderful it would be if they could have a spy on the inside!

As she reached for the front door of the building, she saw two very unexpected people headed that way. Thinking quickly, she casted a Disillusionment Charm on herself and waited in the corner. Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom entered the apartment complex and it looked like they were arguing. Hastily, Daphne followed them into the lift.

"Honestly, Luna, she told us not to come by until she invited us. It's dangerous for her and for us!" Neville was saying in a low voice.

"I just have a feeling that we should be here," discreetly, Luna looked over to the corner of the elevator where Daphne was hidden and…smiled? Daphne stared at her. There was no way Looney Lovegood could possibly know she was there…could she?

"Luna," Neville said, sounding almost angry now, "What if Malfoy has some of his Death Eater buddies over there? We could get ourselves and Hermione in serious trouble by showing up at his flat. What would we say? 'Oh, hey, we're just here to visit with the mudblood!'"

"Neville!" Luna scolded, "Don't call her that!"

"That's what they call her!" was his angry retort, "and you can say whatever you want, but I still don't trust Malfoy."

Luna clucked her tongue at him, "Hermione does. That's what's important. As a matter of fact…I trust him, too, Neville. He's good to Hermione. It's obvious that he cares for her."

Neville rolled his eyes and grumbled some more, but the lift came to a stop and they exited it together. Daphne sank down to the floor, processing all of this new information. It _was_ Hermione Granger who was Draco Malfoy's slave! More than that, if he was helping Hermione then he was supporting Harry Potter! That deceptive git!

Oh Merlin! She just realized! This meant…Draco Malfoy was in love with _Hermione fucking Granger_.


	15. Reunion

**A/N: Normally I do not update this often. However, the last chapter I posted hasn't even been up for 24 hours yet and my email inbox is full of new favs, reviews, and followers. So, to thank all of you for reading (and hopefully enjoying!) my story, I will put this chapter up today. I hope you all like it. Like I said in the author's note of a previous chapter, things are picking up quickly now! **

**Also, I know this chapter is a little cheesy, but it's fun. And cute. **

**MofDA**

**Disclaimer: I think by now we all know what this is about. JK Rowling owns everything!**

…**.**

"Is she gone?" Hermione asked in a quiet voice, peeking around the corner into the sitting room. She hadn't been able to hear their conversation, but the door closing had caught her attention.

"Yes," Draco sighed, then looked up at Hermione. His face was relaxed, calm, and Hermione was frightened. Why had she left so abruptly? She didn't even eat the food Hermione had prepared.

"You can eat with me, if you'd like, since Daphne didn't," Draco said dryly as he motioned for her to sit beside him on the sofa.

"Er, I have my own dinner in the kitchen," she said. Draco was instantly suspicious. He raised his eyebrows at her, waiting for an explanation. While fiddling with her fingers, she said in a rush, "I-might-have-accidentally-spit-in-her-food."

Draco threw his head back and laughed heartily. He got up, moved toward her, and hugged her while still chuckling. "You didn't spit in mine, too, did you?" he asked.

"No," her reply was slightly muffled as her face was in his chest.

"Aw," he teased, "if you had, I'm sure it would have just made it taste better." Although he couldn't see her face, he knew his comment made her blush. Flirting; that was something he was good at. It was also a good idea to flatter the woman he loved when he had insulted her by bringing another girl to his flat for a date. Merlin, he had been stupid. How could he possibly even consider marrying Daphne, or any other woman for that matter, when the witch in his arms was the only one he wanted?

"I'm sorry I was so unpleasant," said Hermione, "is that why she left?"

Draco laughed, "No, actually, I think she was looking for an ally more than a husband," he rested his chin on top of her head.

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione as she pulled back a bit to look up at his face.

"I think she wanted to know if I supported Harry Potter now," he told her evenly.

"Why would she think that? Have you been acting differently? Draco, you know how important it is that everyone believes you support You-Know-Who just as much now as you did when he first came back to power."

"Oh, no, she only noticed because of how I treated you." Draco was barely paying attention to his own words. He was playing with the ends of her short hair, wondering what her real hair had felt like before he had transfigured it.

"Oh," Hermione didn't know what to say. She had given Draco away, to a possible enemy. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It felt…really good to admit to someone how I feel. Even if it was just Daphne Greengrass."

"You can always tell me how you feel, you know," she said shyly.

He smiled. Slowly, deliberately, he brought his hand up under her chin and tilted her face up toward his. He lowered his lips toward hers and whispered, "How about I show you instead?" Her eyes fluttered closed. She could feel his warm sweet breath on her lips. She gave a light gasp of surprise when she felt his arm around her, pulling her closer. His lips just barely brushed against hers when – knock. Knock. Knock.

"Fuck," Draco swore and practically jumped away from her. Hermione's heart was racing, her palms were sweating, and she felt reactions in her body that she had never felt before. The sexual tension she had been feeling toward Draco spiked in her in that moment and if someone hadn't knocked on the door, she was afraid of what she might have let happen. Of what she wanted to happen. Draco hadn't even actually admitted to having any feelings at all toward her. She knew they were there, she could tell. It would just be reassuring to hear it.

He opened the door while Hermione was still standing dazed in the sitting room. She didn't even realize Draco had answered the knocks until she heard a distinctly feminine voice say her name, "Hermione?"

Her head snapped up and Luna smiled at her, "Oh, good, I think I got the Wrakspurts to leave you alone."

"What are you guys doing here so late?"

"Luna said she had a feeling that we should be here," said Neville with a shrug.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Luna asked with concern, "you seem distracted."

"No, no, I'm fine. How are you two doing?"

"Lovely, thank you," said Luna with a smile. It didn't go unnoticed by Hermione that as she said this she smiled up at Neville who blushed.

"Luna and I are dating," he said unnecessarily.

"Congratulations!" said Hermione, who felt like this was the first time she had anything to celebrate in a very long time.

"How did that happen?" asked Draco who came out of the kitchen with a tray of teacups. Everyone took a moment to stop and stare at this odd sight. Draco Malfoy. Coming out of a kitchen. Carrying drinks for company. Company that consisted of a muggle-born and two blood traitors.

The awkwardness of the situation was completely missed by Draco, who shoved the dinner plates aside and set the tray on the coffee table. "I suppose living together just brought us closer together," said Neville after a long silence.

"Yes, that tends to happen," said Luna as she looked back and forth between Draco and Hermione with a small smile.

"Tea?" Hermione asked, rushing to Draco's aid as he seemed to realize for the first time how odd it was for him to be doing such a thing. She poured everyone a cup and sat next to Draco on the sofa as Luna and Neville took the other, smaller sofa adjacent to the larger one.

"This is delicious, Draco, I didn't know you could make tea," Luna commented nicely.

"Thank you," he said with slight embarrassment.

"What have you two been doing?" asked Neville eagerly, "I know you, Hermione, and I know that you've probably been working on some way to help Harry. Or at least, some way of finding him."

"I have no way of finding him," she said as she set her teacup down, "but I have been making some plans," she wiggled her eyebrows mysteriously. "Let's just say that we still plan on winning this war."

Draco sighed, "As much as I want that now, I'm still not sure if it's possible, Granger."

"Ye of little faith," she chimed with a smirk. Draco smiled, too. He hadn't seen Hermione this happy since before he told her he had invited Daphne over for dinner. The past week had gone by in near silence between them. Now that the evening was behind them, she was positively beaming. Draco moved his hand toward her, but stopped and pulled it back. Not around Longbottom and Looney. He ground his teeth together. These were Hermione's friends, and now they were his allies. He really needed to stop thinking rude thoughts about them.

Then again. If they were really Hermione's close friends, why hadn't she trusted them with the secret of Voldemort's Horcrux? She was evasive with them about her plans. He made a mental note to ask her about it later.

Neville and Luna stayed and chatted for the rest of the evening. Hermione was practically bouncing in her seat when Neville held Luna's hand. Draco hadn't even noticed that at some point, his arm found it's way around Hermione's shoulders.

"Neville, love, we should go," Luna said suddenly.

"You're right," he agreed as he checked his pocket watch, "I didn't realize how late it was."

They stood and made their way toward the door. Draco rushed to get their cloaks out of the closet. "Thank you," said Luna as Draco helped her with hers. She fastened the brass button then hugged Hermione tightly. "Don't let him go," she whispered so the boys wouldn't hear. Hermione looked startled but nodded.

"Goodnight," Neville said as he hugged Hermione. He stopped then, stared at Draco for a moment and extended his hand. Surprised, Draco hesitated only a moment before taking his hand and shaking it. Then they were gone.

"That was…strange," said Hermione as she began picking up the teacups. Butterflies erupted in her stomach as the thought registered that she was alone with Draco again.

"Yes," he said, "but in a good way," then he noticed the faint blush on her cheeks. Unable to resist the opportunity to tease her, he stepped up to her and lightly brushed her cheek with his fingers, "Thinking about anything in particular?" he asked breathily.

She shivered in such a sweet way that it made her knees weak. Never in her life had she wanted anything more than Draco Malfoy in that moment. How in the name of Merlin could she sleep in the same bed as him tonight? Without getting any sleep at all, that's how. Whether they were shagging or her own imagination of them shagging kept her up, she knew it would be a long sleepless night.

"I wanted to ask you something," he was abruptly serious as he again left Hermione's head spinning. "Why didn't you tell them about the Horcrux?"

Still hypnotized by the gorgeous man in front of her, she corrected him without thinking, "Horcruxes."

Draco's eyes widened and he asked in a deadpan voice, "What? He made _two_? Bloody hell, this seems impossible now!"

"Not two," Hermione had already done the damage now. Might as well let it all out, "six," she whispered the number. Draco groaned, covering his face with his hands and sinking down on the sofa. Hermione set the teacups she had been holding back on the coffee table and sat beside him.

"Six? Are you joking?"

"No, but listen," she said anxiously, "We already destroyed three of them, Harry has the fourth, we know exactly where the fifth is, and the sixth…well, we're working on it if they haven't already found it."

Draco looked impressed. "You already found and destroyed half of the Horcruxes?" she shook her head yes. "What about the others? What are they? Where are they?"

Hermione bit her lips. "It's not that I don't trust you, Draco, because I do! It's just…we promised Dumbledore we wouldn't tell anyone else. Not anyone. Harry wouldn't even tell Remus Lupin."

To her surprise, Draco didn't get mad. His temper didn't fly off the handle nor did he reach for a bottle of alcohol. Instead, he took her by the shoulders and said gently, "Hermione Jean Granger. I don't know how or when, but at some point you became the one person in my life who I would die for. Who I would kill for. I am close to the Dark Lord. If you know what you are looking for, I could help. I might know something. I would rather die than betray you."

"What if you didn't mean to?" she had barely allowed herself to entertain such a horrid thought, but it haunted her dreams even in her waking hours, "What if he tortured you or magically forced his way into your mind, breaking you?"

"Hermione," Draco said, still calm, "That's never going to happen. I promise. They won't break me."

Terrified, but trusting, Hermione shook her head back and forth, tears welling up in her eyes as she picture Draco lying broken and bloody with Voldemort standing over him laughing horribly. "His snake," she said at last, in a whisper.

"Nagini?" he asked, dropping his hands from her shoulders. "You're…you're not serious? Making a Horcrux out of a living creature is dangerous and irresponsible."

"Making a Horcrux at all is dangerous and irresponsible," she reminded him severely.

"So you plan on, what, exactly? Walking up to the Dark Lord and stabbing his snake with a knife caked in Basilisk venom potion? She's always by his side. You can't get near her without getting near him."

"We know that," she said, wringing her hands, "that's why Nagini will be the last Horcrux we go after. First we need to find Harry and Ron, make sure they destroyed the Horcrux they have now, and then we need to find the last one, destroy it, and then we'll go after You-Know-Who."

"No!" Draco bellowed, "No! I will not allow you to get anywhere near him! If you do, and somehow managed to not get yourself killed, then I'll kill you! I will not let you be so irresponsible with your life! Let Potter and Weasley do it if they must, but you," he snarled, "will not be involved in that fight!"

"How _dare_ you! You pompous tosser! I am just as capable as a man! Just because I'm a witch and not a wizard, just because I'm…a muggle-born, doesn't mean I'm incapable of such a task! I can stab a snake just as efficiently as you!" She poked him hard in the chest. Both of them were on their feet now, yelling in each other's faces.

"It's not because you're a witch!" he spat, "It's not because you're a muggle-born, you stuck-up bint! I don't want you anywhere fucking near that bastard because I LOVE YOU and if you died, well then, I reckon I'd die, too!," he gripped his chest, above his heart, with an achingly agonized expression on his face.

Hermione recoiled in shock. He loved her. He didn't want her near Voldemort because he wouldn't be able to handle it. He _loved_ her. "Draco," she swallowed, blinked the tears away that were forming in her eyes and said with a slightly shaking voice, "I love you, too."

They stared at each other for less than a second before she was in his arms. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up off of her feet as their lips met. He kissed her like he had never kissed a woman in his life. Her lips were so soft and smooth beneath his own. For one wild moment he thought this was just a dream. He heard her moan, felt her breath against his mouth and knew it was real.

Damn it, she was like a drug. He couldn't get enough of her. He tasted her mouth until they were both panting for breath. Gently, he set her back on her feet and his hands moved to her waist. He held her flush against him so that she could feel all of the muscles hidden just out of sight beneath his clothes.

He kissed his way down her jaw, her neck, to her collarbone. "Draco," she said his name in a breathy voice that had his head spinning and the bulge in his trousers throbbing. He wanted her so badly. He tried to put all of his emotions into his kisses and the way he held her.

"Hermione," he whispered her name against her neck before biting her there. She let out a small shriek and Draco lifted her off of her feet again, carrying her toward his bedroom. Before they reached it, however, she let out a shriek of fright, pointing to something behind Draco. He spun around in the hallway to see a Patronus bounding into view.

It stopped beside them, in the form of a Jack Russell Terrier. It spoke in the voice of Ron Weasley, "We know where you are. We're coming." It vanished.

"Oh fucking hell!" Draco growled. Hermione shrieked again, scrambled out of his arms, and began fixing her hair and straightening the clothes Draco had just rumpled. She ran to the sitting room just as there was a loud bang on the door. She flung it open and there stood Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and was that…Daphne Greengrass?

…..

As soon as Neville and Luna had stepped out of the lift, Daphne let it carry her back to the ground floor. She wandered around muggle London for a bit, sorting through what had just happened. So many thoughts were running through her mind. Draco was on their side. He had Hermione Granger!

They liked each other. Probably they were in love. The tender way he had healed her hand, and the disdain she had shown Daphne. They were in love. Perhaps, if Hermione loved Draco Malfoy, Daphne and Ron could be together. Her heart leapt at the thought.

But first, she had to tell Harry and Ron. She had to tell them in the right way so they didn't rush over to his flat and murder him. When she finally arrived home, Harry and Ron were impatiently waiting to hear what had happened.

"Malfoy," she said while getting herself a glass of firewhiskey, "is on our side."

"What?" Harry and Ron asked together.

"Malfoy?" Harry repeated, "as in, Draco Malfoy, biggest git in the world, wizard who tried to kill Dumbledore?"

"That scum tricked you, Daph," Ron was vehemently shaking his head, "there's no way in hell Draco Malfoy would support us."

"I'm telling you, I saw the evidence with my own eyes." She poured each of them a glass of firewhiskey as well. She figured they would need it for what she would tell them next.

"What evidence?" Harry asked with interest.

"His slave, Heather Gryffin, or Kitten whatever," she said with another swallow of alcohol, "he cares about her. I know it sounds ridiculous, but you guys didn't see it. She cut her hand and he was beside her in a flash, healing it and comforting her. It wasn't a show. Trust me. If Draco Malfoy wanted to put on a show for me, he would've beaten her in front of me or something. His affection for her was something he was trying to hide."

"So he fancies the bird he's shagging," Ron said dismissively, "that doesn't mean he's switched sides."

"I asked him," she said boldly, slapping Ron on the arm, "I asked him if he was still with You-Know-Who and he said _no_! He said he wanted the girl he bought to have a normal life. He said that not only was she equal to him as a person, but also as a witch. I'm telling you, Harry, if you asked him, I'm sure he would fight with you."

"Then what are we waiting for?" asked Ron, "let's go over there and talk to him. Maybe he can help us if he really has had a change of heart."

"There's more," Daphne held up her hand to stop him. "His….slave," she said slowly, "it is Hermione Granger." Both boys froze. Looks of utter shock and horror made their way onto their faces. "He transfigured her so she doesn't look like herself."

"Then how do you know it's her?" asked Harry.

"Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom came into the building as I was leaving, I hid myself and overheard them talking. They were talking about how Hermione was Draco's slave. They were arguing, actually. Luna trusted Malfoy but Neville didn't. He was worried about how Draco treated Hermione, but Luna assured him that Malfoy treats her just fine, and I must say, I agree with Looney Lovegood. Draco treats Hermione like a fucking queen from what I've seen."

"Let's go," Harry and Ron said at the same time.

"What?" cried Daphne, "just barge over there? I'm telling you, Hermione is _safe_ there, she is _cared for_! There's no reason to rush or panic."

"Daphne," said Harry, "if you're right, and we believe you, then you have to understand. She is our best friend. We have been worrying for _months_ that she was dead or being tortured or raped. We need to see her with our own eyes. We need to know she's okay."

Ron flicked his wand and a Patronus shot out the window. "Now," he said. He took hold of Daphne's hand, Harry took the other. "Apparate us to his flat." Uneasily, she nodded, spun on the spot, and they disappeared with a CRACK!

Daphne was so scared. How would Ron and Hermione react to each other? To her, this was a moment of truth. Would she lose him forever? They appeared right in front of his door. Ron banged hard on the door. Hermione wrenched the door open with a look of immeasurable joy.

…..

"Harry! Ron!" Hermione cried, flinging herself at both of them, one arm around each of their necks. As they were so much taller than her, they had to support her as she hugged them. Having heard her voice was confirmation enough for them.

"Hermione," They both whispered her name softly as they entered the flat, closing the door behind them. Draco Malfoy stood awkwardly in the hallway, watching the scene with trepidation. What would happen now?

Suddenly, the three of them were in tears, hugging each other, kissing cheeks, and it was such a sweet reunion that Draco couldn't find it in him to be jealous. Bloody hell, maybe he was turning into a Hufflepuff more than a Gryffindor.

Finally, after a few moments of incomprehensible mumbling, Draco cleared his throat. Ron leaped to his feet, pointing an accusing finger at Draco, "You!" he bellowed, "How dare you _purchase _her! She isn't anyone's property! Especially yours!"

"Ron!" Hermione reprimanded wiping away the tears cascading down her face, "Calm down! Draco saved me. He bought me before anyone could recognize me. He brought me here and has been keeping me safe."

Ron didn't take his eyes off of Draco, but after letting Hermione's words sink in, he calmed down, dropped his finger and turned back toward her. "I just can't believe…we found you! You're alright!" he was crying again, hugging her, kissing the top of her head, "Your hair," he moaned as if he'd lost a best friend, "what happened to your beautiful messy hair?"

She laughed, "Well, it's much more manageable now."

Harry laughed then, too, and said, "It feels so good to have you back, Hermione. Like everything is right my world again. The only one missing now is Ginny, but at least I know she's safe."

"What have you two been doing this whole time?" Hermione asked, still trying to reign in her sobs.

"Looking for you," they said at the same time.

She rolled her eyes, "That can't be all you've done?"

Now that they had found her, they felt shame at their lack of progress with the Horcruxes. As she glared at them like an angry McGonagall, they became filled with happiness all over again and more hugging ensued. "Honestly," Harry finally said, "you were our priority. We couldn't concentrate on You-Know-Who with you missing, Hermione!"

"Well," she scolded, "Luckily for you, Draco and I have been working on something."

"What? The ferret's been helping you? Destroy…erm…You-Know-Who?" Ron spluttered. She nodded, and led them to the kitchen. Draco and Daphne stayed behind, glancing at each other uneasily. What was going on?

Hermione pulled out the vial of Basilisk venom potion, briefly explaining to them what it was, how it worked, and where she left the other two vials for them to find. They praised her brilliance, and decided the moment they had the opportunity, they would destroy the cup that Harry still carried on him. Hermione's beaded bag was currently shoved in his sock, just in case.

Draco and Daphne were almost entirely ignored as Harry, Ron, and Hermione settled in the sitting room and discussed what they had been doing since they had last seen each other. Finally, Harry and Ron knew exactly how Hermione had been taken from them, and Hermione knew how they had found her. Eventually, it was late at night and all were tired.

"Come on," said Ron, "come with us back to Daphne's house."

Hermione stopped walking toward the door and Ron looked back at her. "Ron, I'm sorry but…I have to stay here."

"You have to?" he asked suspiciously.

"Yes. Even if I didn't have to, I…I want to."

Ron's face drained of color. He was expressionless. He recalled her mentioning specific rules about her being bound to Malfoy, how it was impossible for her to leave because if Lucius showed up or if Voldemort attempted to track her, they would all be in big trouble. To be trapped here was one thing. But to want to stay with Malfoy? Maybe what Daphne had said was true. Maybe Draco fancied her. Maybe she fancied Draco as well. "Can we talk for a minute? Privately?" he asked softly. Hermione nodded and led him to her bedroom.

"What did you want to talk about?" she asked nervously.

"You," he said, "and Malfoy."

"Oh," she chewed nervously on her lip before answering, "Ron, listen," she took a deep breath before she was able to continue. "When I first came here, Draco was cold and confused and immature. But he's grown so much. We have grown. Together. We're close now. I can't…I can't imagine my life without him. Just like I can't imagine my life without you or Harry. Only…"

"Only you fancy him?"

"Well, yes."

Ron smiled sadly, "I always thought it would be us."

"I did, too," she admitted as the blush he loved burned bright red in her cheeks, "I loved you, you know. I really did. The real kind of love. Then, when I started to get to know Draco, I fell in love with him, too."

"Are you saying you love him more?"

"No! Yes. I don't know. I don't want to choose, Ron, but if I had to…I think it would be him," her voice was soft, small, and Ron moved to hold her in his arms to comfort her. "I love you," she assured him, "but I think that somewhere since we last saw each other, it went from being in love with you to loving you the way I love Harry. Draco, he means so much to me, Ron. Please, try to understand." She didn't look up at him as she begged.

"Hermione," he tilted her face up so she had to look at him and to her utter shock, he was smiling, "I do understand. Because I found someone, too."

"You don't mean…Daphne?"

Ron just smiled. They hugged again, just holding each other, and for the first time since the war began, Hermione felt _true_ happiness. Maybe, somehow, this would all work out just fine after all. "Did it have to be _Malfoy_?"

Hermione laughed, "Sorry," she sounded sheepish.

"I still think he's a git."

"I know."

"He doesn't deserve you."

"I know that, too."

"But he makes you happy?"

"Very, very happy."

Ron looked as if he was steeling himself. He let out a big breath of air he hadn't realized he had been holding and said grudgingly, "That's all I really want, you know. Is for you to be happy. You, Harry, me, all the others who have suffered in this war."

Hermione let his words sink in before saying, "I told Draco you would come for me. The first day I was here. I told him you would find me. He didn't believe me, but I never lost faith in you and Harry."

"The ferret always did underestimate us."

She chuckled weakly before agreeing, "Yes, but you really need to stop calling him the ferret."

"Do you think…after this is all over, he'll still want you? Do you really think that he will defy his parents and his heritage to be with you?"

"I can't say for sure, of course, but I really think so. He's changed so much, Ronald."

"I can see that. I see the way he looks at you and the way you look at him. Just remember that if he changes his mind or leaves you, I'll rip his stupid ferret head off."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from my best friend."

…..

When they finally emerged, Harry and Daphne were waiting awkwardly by the door. "Where's Draco?" Hermione asked.

"He went to bed," said Harry quietly, "he said he was exhausted and we could come back tomorrow to talk more if we wanted."

Hermione reached up to kiss Harry's cheek, "Please do. Come back tomorrow first thing. Do you promise?"

"Now that we found you, we'll never lose you again, Hermione," Harry vowed.

"Daphne," Hermione turned to her, "I'm so sorry I was horrible to you this evening."

"Nah, I deserved it," she chuckled.

"Thank you, for taking care of them, for helping them, and for everything else," Daphne's face lit up at those words and what they implied. She knew in that moment, that in a way, Hermione was giving her Ronald Weasley. Daphne couldn't restrain herself. She rushed forward and hugged Hermione fiercely. "Take care of him, please," Hermione pleaded.

"Forever," Daphne promised. The girls broke apart, smiling at each other, both of them recognizing the fact that they had just found a good friend. When they left, Hermione locked the door behind them, changed into her shorts and tank top, then crawled into bed beside Draco.

He stirred awake and mumbled, "Hermione? You're still here? I thought you would have gone with…them."

"No," she said with conviction, "I'm right where I belong."

"You chose me?" he asked, rolling around to face her. His eyes were sleepy and unfocused, but they were wide open and their grey orbs were full of emotion.

"Always," she whispered as he kissed her, "I'll always choose you."

A few moments later, they had both drifted into a peaceful sleep, wrapped in each other's arms. Her last coherent thought was that she never had to worry about nightmares ever again because Draco would always be by her side at night to keep them away.


	16. The Task

**Author's Note at the bottom**

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SEXUAL CONTENT. **

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns everything.**

…**..**

Ron Weasley couldn't believe it. He felt as if the past few hours had been an odd sort of dream. Hermione was in love with Draco Malfoy. He still wasn't happy about that, but all things considered, it was almost a relief. His feelings for Daphne had grown so much, they were harder to ignore every day. Now he wouldn't have to ignore them.

Immediately upon arriving back at her home, Harry went to the room he shared with Ron and fell asleep. Ron and Daphne, however, went to the kitchen for a drink. "You're not tired?" she asked as she uncorked a bottle of wine.

"Oh, I'm exhausted," he assured her while getting glasses for them out of the cupboard, "but there is no way I could sleep right now. Too many thoughts going around in my head."

"Mmhmm," she poured them each a glass of wine and sat at the kitchen table. "How was it…seeing Hermione?" she knew that Hermione chose Draco over Ron but would Ron still be hung up on Hermione? Daphne wasn't sure and that worried her.

"Strange," he said, his eyebrows drawing together, "she didn't look like herself, obviously, and that was weird, but she has changed in other ways, too. I was surprised to find her so happy. Healthy, too. Before we ran into you, the three of us never got enough to eat, we never got enough sleep, we were barely keeping our heads above water. I have never hated to admit anything more, but…he's good for her, I think. At the very least he has been good to her and in a big way I feel like I will always owe him for that. It was also strange seeing her because I thought I would feel a certain way, but I didn't. For the past couple of months I pictured that when we finally found her, I would scoop her up into my arms and we would kiss and be so full of love. It didn't happen like that though, for either of us. We were still full of love, but we're not in love." It had always been difficult for Ron to put his emotions into words, but he did his best. Having talked to Hermione about her feelings for Draco helped him sort through his own emotions as well.

"Why?" her question was barely audible.

Ron gave her a thin smile, "We both fell in love with other people."

"Both of you did?"

"And I thought I was thick," he chuckled, Daphne scowled. "I fell in love with _you_, you silly-oof!" Daphne had lunged herself at him and was now hugging him so tightly he could barely breathe. But he didn't care. He held her, very gently, inhaled the scent of her beautiful dark hair, and wondered how in the name of Merlin he got so lucky.

"I'm glad," she said. Then they were kissing. This time, when they kissed, there was no guilt, no fear, no reluctance; it was perfect. His hands raked through her silky locks of hair while she kept her arms wrapped around his middle. They both tasted faintly of the wine they were drinking.

Ron pulled her onto his lap as they continued kissing. The only girl he had ever kissed before Daphne was Lavender Brown and it had been so different. It had been sloppy and messy. This was perfection. Daphne's lips were warm and delicious and he couldn't get enough of them. He hoped that she felt the same way, and from the quiet sounds she was making, he was guessing she did.

Very quickly, the feel of her and the sounds coming from her got to him and he felt himself getting hard. She pulled back slowly, looked down at his trousers, smirked and said, "I thought I felt something going on down there. We should really take this to my bedroom. I wouldn't want Harry to walk in on anything inappropriate."

That was all the invitation he needed. They made their way to her bedroom, with much tripping and bumping into things, and snogging along the way. When they finally collapsed onto her bed, they were both panting. The only light in the room was coming from the small sliver of moonlight from her window, but it was enough. He could see her in the dim light as she slowly laid down on the bed, her head resting on the soft down pillow.

It all felt so surreal to Ron. He felt like he couldn't get enough air. Then again, he also felt like he didn't need air. All he wanted was her. Taste her, touch her, breathe her. She started to squirm out of her skirt, but he caught hold of her hand, turned it up and kissed the inside of her wrist, "I'll do that," his voice was low, breathy, and Daphne couldn't believe how much it affected her.

She couldn't help but smile at how careful and gentle he was about everything. Daphne Greengrass wasn't used to being treated so respectfully, so delicately, and it was one of the many things she loved about Ron. She knew why, of course, most boys didn't treat her this way. People would often tell her that she looked experienced and feisty, therefore they treated her that way.

It was wonderful to her to be with him like this. To take her time, sliding her hands under his shirt, stroking his chest and stomach. He was so warm. Involuntarily, she pressed herself against him, taking her time with him as he did with her, peeling off each item of his clothing with care and deliberation.

At last, at last, she peeled off the last layer between them. She wasn't sure he even noticed that she had just removed his boxers, as he was preoccupied caressing her body in every intimate place, kissing her sweetly in those places as well. "You're so beautiful," he whispered.

Daphne couldn't believe how she was reacting to him. He had her smiling like an idiot and blushing like a virgin, which she definitely wasn't. However, this time, everything felt so fresh and new. She wanted this night to last forever. His body slid between her knees, parting her legs for him, and she braced herself for him to enter her.

After a moment of waiting, she asked softly, "Is something wrong?"

"No," he assured her as he bent forward to kiss her stomach, "I've just never done this before. Blimey, I didn't know I would be this nervous."

Daphne was shocked. "Never?" she asked. He shook his head. Again, there were those giddy butterflies in her tummy. She was going to be his first. Unable to help herself, she reached up to grab fistfuls of his thick red hair and pulled his face to hers, kissing him fiercely. Just as carefully and gently as he had done everything else, he slowly slid himself into her, inch by inch.

When he was fully sheathed, Daphne felt a spasm of pleasure shiver through her. Merlin, he was definitely the best (not to mention biggest) lover she had ever had, and they had barely gotten started. Impatiently, she moved her hips up, and the friction had her trembling. "Does that feel good?" he asked, sounding like he was having a hard time controlling himself as he began to move inside of her.

"Merlin, yes, so, so good," she could hardly speak. Ron groaned, picking up his pace.

"Daphne," it came out sounding like a prayer, like he was worshipping her and her body as he made love to her and she reveled in the sound of it. That was all it took to send her over the edge, reeling in blissful oblivion as the man above her continued his ministrations on her body. A few moments later, he finished as well, with her nails digging into his back and his name falling repeatedly from her lips as she was still riding out her own orgasm.

Once he regained enough strength, he rolled onto his back, bringing her with him, so she lay with her head on his chest. "Thank you," she whispered, "that was wonderful."

Ron hummed contentedly in agreement, enveloped her into his arms, and fell asleep. Daphne almost wanted to laugh. How like Ron. Shag her senseless, then fall asleep. Snuggling into his side, Daphne ran her hand lightly up and down his chest, just thinking about how amazing she felt, then followed him into a peaceful night of sleep.

….

"Oh, Merlin, not you two as well!" Harry Potter clapped a hand over his eyes as he stepped into Draco Malfoy's bedroom to find Hermione cuddled up with him under the covers.

"Bugger off, Potter," Malfoy growled.

"Oh! Harry!" Hermione squeaked as she hastily squirmed out of Draco's arms, "It's not what it looks like, honest!"

"Hold up," Draco lifted his arm off of his eyes and blinked blearily at Harry, "Did you say, 'not you two as _well_'? Do tell, Potter, who else did you walk in on this morning?"

Hermione's face turned red and Harry spluttered before a loud female voice called from the kitchen, "RONALD AND I SHAGGED LAST NIGHT!"

"Does it…does that…are you okay with that, Hermione?" Harry asked with concern.

"Absolutely," to his surprise, she was grinning at him, "It's actual a bit comical, isn't it? Ron shagging someone before either of us did."

Harry ran a hand nervously through his hair before joining in on her laughter, "Yeah, I reckon it was rather unexpected."

"Oi!" Ron yelled from the kitchen, "Don't be making fun of me in there!"

"What?" Draco still seemed preoccupied with what Hermione had said, "You're still a virgin Potter?" he snorted, "you were the most popular bloke at Hogwarts, I was sure you were shagging half of the girls in our year at least."

"No," said Harry uncomfortably, "There's only one girl for me and she's-"

"My sister!" Ron piped in, "so there's no way in hell he'd risk his life just to shag her."

"Actually, I would," Harry muttered.

"Harry!" Hermione smacked his arm.

"Come on," Daphne peeked her head into the room, "we're hungry, make us some breakfast, Draco."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "He doesn't cook. I think the entire time I've been here there was only ever one day that he even helped me make breakfast."

"Kitten, make breakfast." Draco hadn't meant to. It just came out like a command. Her spine stiffened and she glared at him with a snarl on her face. "Er, um, sorry. I meant, _Hermione_, would you _please_ start breakfast for everyone? I could really use a shower. I'm sure Potter, Weasley, and Daphne will help you."

"Of course," she said in a tone that dripped with just a bit too much sweetness.

"What was that?" Ron asked as he had come into the room at some point also.

"The effects of giving an order to a bond servant," whispered Daphne, "when Draco uses a commanding tone with her, she has to obey. Her body can't help it."

"Son of a bitch," Ron groaned.

"He doesn't use it for bad things," Hermione was quick to defend him. "He can't help it, honestly. Whenever he tells me to do anything, I have to do it."

"So essentially, it's like _Imperio_?" Harry asked curiously.

"Yes, but stronger. You can't fight this. It's a magical contract. Like you when your name was put in the Goblet of Fire," Hermione was in her element. Explaining things to Harry and Ron as they stared at her with dumbfounded expressions, "That's why I can't leave him, even if he commanded me to. I am bound by a magical contract to him. We don't know how to break it, and even if we did, we couldn't because his father and all of their Death Eater cronies, including You-Know-Who know that Draco has a slave. I can be tracked by Draco, his father, or even You-Know-Who himself. It's like I have the Trace on me. Like I'm underage all over again. I can't use magic. If I attempt to touch a wand, it burns my hand. I can do a bit of wandless magic, but nothing spectacular."

Harry shook his head while Ron frowned. It was Daphne who recalled what Hermione had told them the night before, "Damn, they thought of everything, didn't they? It's a bit weird though, isn't it, that Draco's father would buy you for him."

"I thought that, too," Draco offered, "but he said it was the Dark Lord's idea. The Dark Lord knows I am a weak Death Eater and I think he wanted me to get a taste of having power over someone else. You know what the muggles say about power corrupting. It's my belief that he thought it would bring me closer to him if I had a slave to kick around."

"Well then, that's just another one of his many foolish plans that backfired on him," snapped Hermione, crossing her arms over her chest, "because it had the complete opposite effect. Look at you now! Almost a respectable wizard! Who would have thought?"

Everyone in the room laughed, except Draco, who scowled, but secretly agreed. "Alright, that's enough talk, I'm starving," said Ron.

As Draco exited the room to take a shower, the others went to the kitchen and started breakfast. They heard the radio click on. "What the bloody hell is that rubbish?" grumbled Daphne.

"That rubbish is his normal morning routine," Hermione told her with a small smile.

"Well turn it off," said Ron.

"I can't," Hermione said in a very small voice, "when I first came here, I turned it off and he got mad and told me I wasn't allowed to turn it off if he turned it on."

"So?" said Harry.

"Weren't you listening to the conversation we just had?" Daphne snapped impatiently, "he gave her a _command_, Potter. She literally can _not_ turn off that radio because Draco forbade her from doing so."

"Well, that's unfortunate, but I still have free will and I'll turn it off," Ron stepped into the hallway, heading towards the radio when a loud yell stopped him.

"IF YOU TURN OFF THAT RADIO, WEASLEY, SO HELP ME I WILL HEX YOUR BALLS OFF!"

"Stupid, Malfoy, git," Ron mumbled. All through breakfast, the radio blared on.

"We should invite Neville and Luna over for breakfast," said Hermione.

"Nah, I know they're our friends, but just the five of us is like family," said Ron as he slung his arm around Harry's shoulders. Ron wasn't exactly helping to cook the food, just wandering around tasting it occasionally.

"Except Luna is _actually_ family, her mother was Luna Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's sister," Hermione informed them.

"What?" Draco came around the corner, fully clothed and toweling off his dripping blonde hair.

"Didn't I mention it before?" asked Hermione with a frown, "she told me about it ages ago. She's your cousin."

"No, you didn't tell me," he sounded almost like he was angry.

"Honestly, I thought you would have known. Didn't your father ever mention a sister?"

"Well, yes, but never by name. He would just mention her in passing as a warning as to what would happen to me if I became a blood traitor."

"Looks like the warnings didn't work," commented Ron.

Draco snorted, "No, but still. I never knew I had any cousins except for Nymphadora Tonks, though we don't consider her family. Maybe after this war I'll attempt to look her up."

"That would be a lovely idea," Hermione encouraged with a gentle pat on his cheek.

"Oh stop being all lovey-dovey and come eat," Daphne forced her way between them with two plates full of biscuits. "Hermione made them, she said they were your favorite."

Draco smiled, reflecting on what Weasley had said. Yes, this odd breakfast in his tiny flat felt more like family than he had ever felt with his parents in their manor.

…..

"You told Malfoy?" Ron growled as he, Harry, and Hermione sat together in her bedroom.

"Yes, I did, because I trust him."

"Well I trust Daphne but we didn't tell her!"

"It's not like I really had a choice, Ronald, he figured it out on his own. He knew I was up to something and figured it out."

"Are you sure he figured it out and didn't just _command_ you to tell him about it?"

"He wouldn't do that! He hasn't forced any information out of me about our mission, for your information!"

"Oh, please, don't tell me he's changed that much. What, did he forbid you from telling Harry or I the truth?"

"Ronald!"

"Calm down, both you," Harry finally intercepted the argument, "Ron, you're only mad because Hermione willingly told Draco a very important secret. Hermione, you're only mad because you fancy Malfoy and Ron took a jab at him."

"Hmph," Hermione huffed, turning her face away from the two boys.

"Sorry," said Ron.

"You're forgiven," she said haughtily.

"Hermione…" Harry prompted.

"Ugh, fine, I'm sorry, too. But only for telling Draco about the Horcruxes before consulting you two about it first. If you want to make things fair, you are at perfect liberty to tell Daphne about it."

"Well we kind of have to now, don't we?" Harry didn't sound at all happy with the situation either, "Just the three of us, that's how it was supposed to be. Dumbledore said I could tell you both. Our plan wasn't supposed to become common knowledge." Ron and Hermione both opened their mouths to protest, but Harry held up his hand to silence them, "However, circumstances have changed much more than we ever thought they could. I understand that we need to adapt. I'm not mad at you for telling Malfoy, Hermione. Malfoy and Daphne are in our group now. I don't think either of them will abandon us, and technically, Hermione, you _can't_ abandon Malfoy. The circumstances are rubbish, I'll admit that, but we're going to have to make some changes. We'll start by telling Daphne about the Horcruxes. Then, we'll destroy the cup, which is still in my sock, in case you two bickering dolts have forgotten."

Harry sounded so…reasonable and so mature that it took Hermione off guard. "Al-alright," she said shakily, "But, um, Harry, since when have you referred to Ron and I as bickering dolts? We've always fought."

"Yes, well, I've thought it many times before, it's just the first time I said it." There was a short pause before the three of them burst into fits of laughter.

…..

"For the one millionth time, Potter, _yes_, for Merlin's sake, I am _positive _that this apartment is sound proof. All of them are magically sound proofed. One of the perks of living in a wizarding apartment complex, not that you would know much about it, having been raised by muggles."

"Draco, please be civil. You were perfectly polite to Harry and Ron last night," Hermione reprimanded.

"I barely spoke to them last night," he argued hotly, "I may be supporting Harry in this war now, but that doesn't mean we've suddenly become best mates."

"He's right," said Harry, who was scratching the top of his head awkwardly, "Malfoy, Ron, and I will have a long way to go before we stop being rude to each other constantly."

"Ugh, fine, let's just do this."

Daphne was watching with wide eyes. She had been absolutely horrified when they had explained to her what a Horcrux was and that Voldemort had created six of them. The seventh part of his soul, of course, remained intact in his own body. Harry reached deep into the beaded bag he was holding. His entire arm disappeared inside it. Finally, he pulled out a small golden cup with a badger on it.

"That's…Hufflepuff's symbol," said Draco, reaching out to take it. Harry jerked it back, out of Draco's reach. "I'm not going to run off with it, you git, I just wanted to get a better look at it."

"Yes," Hermione told him, "it did belong to Helga Hufflepuff. That's why it was special to You-Know-Who."

"I've got it," Ron came into the sitting room, holding a knife that was slick with the clear potion Hermione and Draco had brewed. He handed the knife to Hermione.

"What?" she squeaked, "Me?"

"Yes," Harry agreed, "You haven't yet destroyed one yet, it's sort of your turn. Plus, it was your brilliance that helped us attain this Horcrux." He set it carefully on the floor. They had cleared a large open place in Draco's sitting room, all of the furniture was pushed against the walls.

Everyone backed up, far away from the cup except for Draco and Hermione. He stepped up beside her and took hold of her hand. It wasn't odd for her anymore to find comfort in the wizard who was once her enemy. Now it just felt natural. "You can do this," he whispered.

He gave her a hand a squeeze then joined everyone else on the edges of the room. Hermione was shaking. She remembered what Harry had told her about what happened when the other Horcruxes had been destroyed. Nervously, she switched the knife from her left hand to her right hand, back to the left, back the right. Out of nowhere she gave a war cry, flung herself at it and drove the knife down into the center of the cup.

Several things happened at once. Hermione was thrown backwards violently, slamming hard into wall. The cup screamed. It was a bone chilling sound that echoed around the room, causing Harry and Daphne, who were closest to it, to clap their hands over their ears. The cup bled. Dark black ooze seeping out of the crack Hermione had caused. There was a low boom as magic exploded out of the cup. The magic hit everyone like a wall. That was what had flung Hermione like a rag doll. It blew into the others, knocking them back, but not nearly as forcefully as it had done to Hermione.

Then, suddenly, it was over. The cup was still making noise. There was a vibrating ringing sound coming from it as well as a low pitched keeling sound. Like a dying animal. Draco didn't spare a glance at the cup as he rushed to help Hermione up. She was rubbing the back of her head and grimacing.

"That's it?" she asked in wonder.

Harry gave a short laugh, "What do you mean 'that's it'? That cup put up a fight. At least it didn't try to kill you."

"Or turn you against us," added Ron.

"I…I had an idea at the last minute," she confessed, "Harry, when you destroyed the diary, it had already taken the form of Tom Riddle, and Ron, when you destroyed the locket, Harry had to open it first and then you gave it time to taunt you. I thought maybe if I just attacked it and stabbed it as quick as I could, it wouldn't have an adequate amount of time to defend itself."

"Brilliant," breathed Draco as he ran his fingers along her scalp. He found a bump there, where her head had hit the wall, and brought his wand up to fix it. "There," he said, kissing it, "all better."

"Next one is your turn," she told Draco with a light smile. He barked a laugh, kissed her forehead and stood up, helping her up with him.

"Four down, two to go," Ron said.

"I still think the last one is at Hogwarts," Harry had said this so many times that Hermione and Ron both groaned a loud. "I don't care what you two think, I'm going to search every brick in that castle before we charge after You-Know-Who."

"You're a bit late now," Hermione said, "tomorrow is September first."

"Ah, damn," Harry hadn't been keeping track of the date. He barely even registered the fact that it was summer. He brought his wand up and with a sharp flick, all of the furniture returned to its proper place.

"We might have to wait for Christmas time, mate, when most of the professors and students are gone," Ron clapped him on the shoulder.

"No," Harry objected, a light appearing in his bright green eyes, "I'm not waiting another three months. This is coming to an end. As soon as I can find a way, we _are_ getting into Hogwarts."

"Oh, thank Merlin," said Hermione, "Something to do! Something to plan! This is what I have been missing. Draco, be a dear and fetch me a piece of parchment and a quill. Daphne, tell me absolutely everything you know about the way Hogwarts is run now. What sorts of things guard the castle, are there any guards at the secret passageways, do the students still take trips to Hogsmeade, what are-"

"Hermione," Ron interrupted her with a smile.

"What, Ronald?"

"It's wonderful to have you back."

….

It had been a week since then. A week since they started planning on how exactly they were going to manage to break into Hogwarts. Hermione hadn't forgotten about the fact that Snape knew where she was yet hadn't turned her over to Voldemort. However, at the same time, she didn't exactly count him as an ally either. Harry refused to even consider contacting Snape. Whenever Hermione mentioned his name, Harry would snap, "He killed Dumbledore, Hermione, have you forgotten that?" and that would be the end of that conversation.

She was in the sitting room, pieces of parchment fanned out all around her, as she sat on the floor going over everything again. Perhaps they could risk contacting Professor McGonagall. Draco could write her a letter, under the pretense of wanting to meet up and discuss some piece of transfiguration he was having a difficult time with in his Healer training. Yes, that wasn't a bad idea. Hermione wrote it down on one of the pieces of parchment, making note to mention it to the others later.

Draco was at a Death Eater meeting. It still made Hermione nervous every time he went, but there was nothing either of them could do about it. She was scared to death that Voldemort would eventually set Draco another task.

Frowning, she thought yet again about how preoccupied they had been with making plans. Daphne, Harry, and Ron had ended up staying a few nights at Draco's flat simply because they would always stay there so late. Hermione wondered if she would ever get the chance to go on an actual date with Draco, or if they would even have the opportunity for another snogging session with everyone else around.

Tonight, however, Daphne, Harry, and Ron would be staying at Daphne's house. Draco had scolded them and said he needed to practice Occlumency with Hermione again tonight as they had been slacking in their lessons lately. _Maybe_, she thought with a light blush, _that was just a cover and Draco really just wanted me to himself for the evening_. Perhaps tonight would be the night; their first night.

There was a knock on the door. Hermione's eyes widened. Who would call at this late hour? Surely any Death Eater would be at the meeting tonight, and Zabini hadn't made a move on her since Draco last stopped him. Harry, Ron, and Daphne, had long given up knocking before they entered Draco's flat.

Filled with curiosity, not unlike the curiosity that got her caught by Traders in the first place, Hermione tiptoed up to the door and looked through the peephole. She leapt back in surprise. Snape. Unsure of what else to do, she slowly cracked the door open. "Professor?" she asked.

"Miss Granger," he said silkily, "may I come in?"

How could she refuse? With trembling hands, she opened the door wider and allowed him entrance. "Can I help you with anything?"

"I'm in a hurry," he drawled, "I just came from Hogwarts and I am on my way to Malfoy Manor. However, I decided that it was in my best interest to stop by and give you this," he handed her a vial of clear liquid with fuzzy contents.

"A memory?" she asked with confusion.

Snape grabbed hold forcefully of both of her wrists, "You are not to look at them. Only Potter. Give this to Potter, but only at the right time."

"This doesn't make any sense. I have so many questions, Professor!"

"Quickly, Granger, I haven't got all evening."

"How did you even know that I know where Harry is?" To her, that was the most important question at the moment.

"I can't tell you that," the words were said with just a hint of a threat behind them.

"Alright, well, why don't you give this to Harry yourself?"

"Are you daft, you imbecile witch? Do you think he would trust anything that came from me? Do you think he would even allow me the opportunity to give him anything at all?" Hermione didn't bother replying to him as the answers to his questions were a bit obvious.

"When will I know when it's the right time?"

He frowned down at her, "I don't even know when the right time will be, you'll just have to give it your best guess." Then, with a _crack!_ he was gone.

….

"Draco," Draco's head snapped up at his name being hissed from the man at head of the table. If he could even be called a man, there was almost no humanity left in Lord Voldemort.

"Yes, my Lord?" Draco spoke the words clearly, with confidence. He had been playing his role perfectly. He hadn't let on at all that he was softening; weakening. That he was turning against the wizard he claimed to serve.

"The time has come for you to dispose of your mudblood."

"I beg your pardon, my Lord?"

"Son," Lucius Malfoy said, "do you remember that I told you it was the Dark Lord who suggested we purchase you a mudblood as a graduation present? This is why." He turned to Lord Voldemort, "Your plans are brilliant, as always, my Lord."

"Thank you, Lucius," said Voldemort with grace, "It hasn't escaped my notice, Draco, that despite your loyal service to me, you have never killed in my name. Never have you even participated in muggle torture for sport. This concerns me."

"But, my Lord-"

"Silence. I told your father to buy you a mudblood pet because it would be the ultimate test, would it not? I believe I have given you an adequate amount of time to become attached, and possibly even fond, of your pet. I demand that you sacrifice her. Kill her. Bring her body to me so that way I know you have obeyed. I will also check your wand with _Prior Incantatem_ and I will go myself to the place where you purchased her and check with the Trader to make sure the magical contract has been broken, as death is the only way to break this bond."

Draco sat staring in horror at Lord Voldemort for several moments before his mother gently stepped on his foot. "Of-of course, my Lord. Anything you ask of me."

"If it is not done," said Voldemort swiftly, "by tomorrow evening at this time, then I will Track her down and kill you both. If you fail this task, your father and mother will be killed as well. Is that understood?"

"Yes, yes, my Lord, I will have this task done for you right away. I will make sure her body is delivered to the mansion by tomorrow evening and that I am here to present my wand to you. I am, as always, your humble servant," with that promise, Draco Malfoy sealed his fate.

…..

**A/N: Before you wonder, yes, it has always been leading up to this. It has always been leading up to Voldemort commanding Draco to kill Hermione. The only question is what will happen now. Will he go through with it? He just promised Voldemort that he would. If he does, can Ron and Harry stop him in time? Will Hermione be able to forgive him if he does make an attempt for her life? Perhaps he will actually succeed in this task. I'm REALLY excited about the next chapter. The next chapter is the idea that originally inspired me to start this story at all. I don't have it written yet, but I plan to write it as soon as I can. **

**Hoping you will stay with Hermione until the very end,**

**Yours,**

**MofDA**


	17. Broken and Bloody

**Author's Note at the end**

…**.**

Draco Malfoy knew what he had to do. There was no other choice. He could hear her in the kitchen, preparing dinner, singing along with the radio just like he did every morning. When he entered the room, she was not facing him. Instead, she faced the stove as the food cooked, her hips swaying with the music erotically, but he didn't even notice. With a swift turn, she was staring straight at him, a smile gracing her beautiful face.

"Draco," she said warmly, "I wasn't expecting you home from the meeting for at least another hour!" It took her a minute to realize that something was off. Why were his eyes so steel hard? Why was his wand raised, pointing at her?

"I'm sorry," he said in a monotone voice.

"No," she backed up, her back hitting the edge of the counter. Slowly, it clicked. Why hadn't she thought of this sooner? Of course Voldemort had an ulterior motive for making sure Draco owned a mudblood. Of fucking course he would be this twisted and evil. The question was, why was Draco going through with it? "You…you don't have to do this," she stuttered.

"But I do," he argued, still in a voice so calm and emotionless it scared her, "if I don't, he will kill us both anyway. You don't think he can find you? You're still trackable, Hermione. Then, after he kills both of us, he'll kill my family. That's why I made so many attempts on Dumbledore's life. To protect them; mostly my mum. As messed up as they are, I know they've seen the error of their ways now. I know that they love me. They deserve to live. They would kill for me. I should be wizard enough to kill for them, too."

"But…but you love me," she was grasping at straws and they both knew it. Her entire body was trembling. She wondered how much longer it would be before her legs gave out and she found herself on the kitchen floor. How many more breaths did she have before he said the Unforgivable Curse?

"Tell me," his voice was shaking now, "what other choice do I have?"

"We could run," she whispered, "and never stop running."

"He would still kill my parents."

Her hands, which had been searching the countertop behind her back, griped the handle of a kitchen knife. The same kitchen knife she had almost used her first night with Draco to kill him. That was the only alternative. Killing Draco. If she could stab him before he killed her, Voldemort couldn't possibly kill his parents for that, and Hermione would live. Then she would be untraceable, because death voided any magical contract.

This was it then. A duel to the death between a skilled wizard with a wand and a clumsy frightened witch with no weapon except a sharp kitchen knife. She knew she wouldn't win. He would _Stupefy_ her before she even brought the knife around. Oh dear Merlin, she was starting to hyperventilate now.

She looked up into his grey eyes, and to her horror they were filled with tears. "No other choice," he repeated quietly, as if steeling himself for what he was about to do. No, he didn't have any other choice, but she did. She could kill him. She had to. Maybe, if he really loved her, he would _let _her kill him. Maybe he wouldn't cast a spell against her.

With determination, Hermione whirled the knife around and brought it slicing down through the air. It struck flesh, muscle, bone, going deep, deeper, cutting through any abstractions in it's path. The cold hard metal was like icy fire as it tore through blood and cartilage.

Blood, as deep as Gryffindor red, splashed all over the knife, the floor, splattered on Hermione herself. The shock of her actions caused her to sink to the floor, sobbing. The pain, the pain she felt was almost mind numbing.

The knife was still griped tightly in her right hand. She couldn't even look at him. "See?" she screamed, her voice echoing boldly around the room, "Do you see my blood now?" She had, in desperation, hacked into her own arm. She was losing feeling in her fingers. Draco gasped but was frozen in his duel-ready stance. "Do you see any _mud_?" she sneered, "Filthy, isn't it, you pureblood bastard! It looks just like yours, Draco, _just like yours_. I bleed the same way you do, I feel the same way you do, and if you had any decency you would turn that wand on yourself!"

Draco's demeanor hardened again at her words. How _dare _she! How _dare _this pompous mudblood judge him! She had no fucking idea what he had been through. He had been foolish to think, even for a moment, that things could have worked between them. Foolish of him to have let her live at all. He wouldn't even be in this mess if he had handed her over to Voldemort in the first place. And Potter! Fucking Harry Potter was just as foolish as Draco if he really believed he could defeat someone as devious and cunning as Lord Voldemort.

This was his mistake and he would make damn sure his family didn't suffer for it. With his mind made up, he pulled his wand back, whispered the words he knew he must, and thrust his wand forward. The spell hit Hermione and she gave a soft, "Oh."

Draco watched wordlessly as her arm began to heal itself. The tendons pulled back together and soon it was healed completely. "You were wrong," he said at last, "about our blood being the same. Yours is cleaner than mine will ever be." He dropped down to the kitchen floor and picked her up. Holding her bridal style, he reached his arm around to touch the blood that still covered her forearm. "This blood," he said, "is purer than any I've seen or posses. Unfortunately, love, I need to ask if you are willing to spill just a bit more of your blood for me tonight."

As his meaning sank in, her cheeks flamed red and she nodded. Their lips met with such fire and heat that Hermione actually saw stars. He broke away from her just long enough to lift the Transfiguration he had previously done on her features. He marveled over the deep brown of her eyes, the silky texture of her crazy wild hair, the face that he had been imagining in his dreams for months. Not the face of Kitten Malfoy, but the face of Hermione Granger.

"I love you," he whispered, his lips on hers, "we will figure something else out. I love you. I'll be damned if I let anyone take you from me."

"I love you, Draco."

"Oh, fuck, Hermione, your lips taste even better than they did a moment ago," and he was right, her real lips were plump and ruby red, unlike the thin lips he had been kissing a moment before.

She sighed into his mouth, which prompted him to swiftly carry her to his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He didn't drop her onto the bed, no, he collapsed onto it with her. His hands didn't leave her body for a moment, even as they pulled her shirt up and over her head, tossing it to the floor.

"I've wanted you for so long," he groaned against her neck.

"I'm yours," to put emphasis on her words, she opened her legs wider and his hips slipped between them, until his erection was pressing against her core through his trousers. Her skirt had hiked up around her hips and he was so eager to remove it from her body that he tore the length of it and threw the scraps to the ground where they joined her shirt.

The bra and panties she wore had Draco unable to take his eyes off of her. They were _green and silver _lace. He could see through the material perfectly, and Hermione was either a bit chilly or very turned on. "Merlin, you're gorgeous," he told her as he bent his head forward. His teeth grazed her chest, between her breasts and he unhooked the front clasp with his teeth.

Her breasts bounced out of the flimsy lingerie and his mouth went to them eagerly. Hermione squirmed beneath him, moaning and gasping with every new place his hands and mouth touched. She wasn't embarrassed at all as she felt his hand glide down her side, across her stomach, and dip into her panties. When his supple fingers stroked her most intimate place, her entire body trembled.

She spread her legs farther apart, practically begging him to continue. "Don't stop," she managed to get the words out as she threw her head back into the pillows.

"Fuck, you're tight," he commented as he guided two fingers gently into her, "and so fucking wet for me."

Unable to form a cohesive response, Hermione gave a soft, sexual cry as he moved his fingers within her, preparing her for what was to come. She watched with bated breath as he removed his hand and proceeded to take off his own clothes. Once he was entirely naked, he crawled back onto the bed with her, but her eyes never left his erection.

It was much bigger than she had expected it to be and she felt herself becoming nervous about this. "Relax," he whispered into her ear, "It will only hurt for a moment, and then, I promise, I will make you feel really good."

Trusting him, she squirmed out of her panties and couldn't help but lose herself in the feeling of his bare flesh rubbing against her own. He was kissing her again, his mouth on hers was urgent and desperate. He was attempting to distract her and she knew it, but nothing could distract her from feeling him slowly guiding himself into her.

She bit his lip as she felt the pain, but tried her best to not make any noise. He held very still as he drove himself fully into her. He was shaking. It took every ounce of self control he possessed to not thrust repeatedly into her. He would be patient and gentle for her. "Does it hurt terribly?" he asked, as he brought his hand up to brush back the unruly hair that had fallen in front of her face.

"Give me…a moment," she panted, her eyes closed tight.

He waited. He felt her muscles tightening and relaxing around him and he moaned, "You're testing my patience to the limit, love."

"Alright," she said after a moment. Her eyes opened and looked up into his, "I'm fine, the pain is gone, go ahead."

Very slowly and deliberately, he pulled out just a bit and thrust easily back in. Hermione moved to match his pace and together they began to speed up. There was no more room for talk. Just the sounds of their labored breathing, gasps, moans, and the occasional creaking of bed springs.

"Draco, Draco, I…" she panicked a bit. She had never had an orgasm before and if this was what one felt like, then sweet Merlin, what had she been missing before? "Oh, oh!" she cried out as she wrapped her legs around his waist and her fingernails dug into his rear end, pulling him into her as she moved her hips up to meet his in perfect unison.

The feeling of her release brought on his own, and Draco came deep inside of her, his face buried in her neck, where he had left many love bites. "Hermione," her name had never sounded sweeter to her own ears than in that moment.

She held onto him, her arms wrapped around him, as he collapsed on top of her. She didn't want him to move. Eventually, he propped himself up on his elbows above her and asked, "How was that?"

"Wonderful," her voice sounded rough, worn out, just as her body was, "So wonderful. Perfect, Draco, you were perfect."

"I wouldn't call anything perfect with you around," he replied, then kissed her forehead.

"What are you going to do about…killing me?" she asked worriedly.

"Shh, don't fret, love. You just get some rest and let me take care of that. Sleep, my love, with no worries, I'm right here beside you."

"I love you, Draco Malfoy."

"As I love you."

…

She was in a deep slumber. As gently as he could, he slid out from under her, readjusting the blankets around her naked body so that she hopefully would not wake up any time soon. He needed her to stay asleep, that was crucial to his plan.

Pulling on just his boxer shorts, he made his way to his study. Less than 24 hours until his time was up. Probably only about seven hours until his love woke up. Seven hours was his deadline then.

He sat down and wrote what was probably the two most important documents in his life. He rolled up each one separately, sealed each of them, then went to his room to finish getting dressed. As he was striding confidently out of the room, he hesitated. How could he just leave her? With a pained expression he turned back to look at her one last time. It would be the image he kept of her. Hermione, with her messy brown hair framing her lovely face, her bare shoulders just visible above the blankets. Her perfect lips were parted just slightly as she breathed in her sleep.

Before he could change his mind he strode out of his flat, trotted down the stairs of the apartment complex, and went out into the chilly night air.

"Damn it," he muttered to himself. He had made two promises, neither of which he could break. The first promise, to Voldemort, that he would kill Hermione. The second promise, to Hermione, that he would find another way. That he would save her, himself, and his family. His plan was brilliant but terrible.

…..

"Oh, let's watch this one!" Luna Lovegood was cuddled up with her boyfriend Neville Longbottom watching the telly late on a Friday evening. Having been raised by wizards, both Neville and Luna were fascinated by the telly. They had only had it for a few days. They were finally starting to get the hang of using the remote to control the channel and volume. Luna liked the nature and animal shows.

"Alright," he gave in with a yawn, stretching his arms up above his head and letting the telly stay on the show about the elephant family living in the African plains. There was a hard knock on the door. "Are we expecting anyone?" he asked absently.

"No," she said in an unconcerned way.

Grumbling, Neville got up and went to answer the door. "Longbottom," Draco said without preamble, "I need to see Luna."

"What's wrong?" Neville and Luna asked at the same time. It was obvious that something was terribly wrong with Draco Malfoy. He looked crazed or panicked, but was acting eerily calm.

"Is it true," he asked, addressing Luna now, "that your mother was Luna Sidra Malfoy, sister of my father?"

"Yes," she answered with a frown, "she was disowned, of course, but she was a Malfoy."

"I need you to sign this," Draco brandished a piece of parchment that looked like a contract toward her. She took it gingerly in her hands as Draco pulled a quill out of his cloak and thrust it into her hand.

"No," argued Neville, "Don't sign anything, Luna."

"Oh, that's strange isn't it?" She had already written her name on the line. It was done. "Almost a bit…tingly." She shivered.

Before he could blink, Draco found himself lifted off of his feet and slammed into the wall. Neville had him by the collar, and was snarling, "What did you do?"

"Congratulations, Longbottom. Your girlfriend is now the proud owner of a muggle-born witch. I transferred ownership of Hermione to Luna."

"What?" Neville was so surprised he let go of Draco who dropped back onto his own two feet. "I thought you couldn't break the contract."

"I can't break the contract," Draco affirmed, "but I can transfer it to a blood relative. Luna is the only blood relative I have who I trust."

"I don't understand," said Luna serenely, "why don't you keep Hermione yourself? She's happy with you, Draco."

"With you owning her, the Dark Lord won't be able to Track her. If he gets a hold of my contract from the Trader who sold me Hermione, it will be void because I don't own her anymore."

"Does she know you've done this?"

"No. She's sleeping right now. I'll tell her when she wakes up. But before then, I have other things I need to do. Longbottom, Lovegood," he nodded to each of them and swept from the room, his cloak rustling in his wake.

…

Having taken care of one problem barely allayed Draco's fears. The most important part of his elaborate plan was going to be the hardest. He wondered where he should begin to look for what he needed. A muggle pub, perhaps? A bar. Yes, that was where he was most likely to find her.

The first one he wandered into was all wrong. Everywhere he looked the women were too tall, too plump, or too gangly. Not what he needed. Plus, he was in a hurry.

She was in the second bar he wandered into. He held up a hand in front of his face, cutting her face from view, just examining her body. Yes, he would venture to guess that this girl and Hermione had almost the exact same proportions. The face wasn't too far off from Kitten Malfoy, either.

Trying hard to remember the name of a muggle drink, he walked up to the bar and said uncertainly, "Um, strawberry daiquiri." A moment later, the bartender slid him the drink and he passed muggle money to her. "Excuse me," he said with a charming smile as he wandered up to the girl he had his eye on, "I'm normally not so forward, but I noticed you the moment I walked in." he handed her the drink smoothly.

A smirk appeared on her face and she took the drink from him with a simple, "Thank you, Blondie. I haven't seen you around here before."

"I'm, er, new in town."

"Where are you from?"

"Wiltshire."

"Ah, well it's a good thing you've moved to the city then. There has been a lot of weird accidents and murders out that way recently," she commented lightly. Draco grimaced. Yes, he was well aware of those 'accidents.' Wizards, mostly the ones staying at his family's home, were killing muggles up and down the country for sport.

It only took Draco twenty minutes of flirting before the girl willingly accompanied him outside. The fact that she was drunk didn't even bother him. She stumbled through the parking lot, following him, to the darkest most secluded corner. After glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he flicked his wand from under his cloak and the girl fell, stupefied, to the ground.

Trying very hard to not think about why he was doing this, he began transfiguring her features. Eventually, she was the perfect clone of Kitten Malfoy. This was the next stage of his plan. Kill this girl. Take her to the manor. Pass her off as having been his mudblood slave. No one would ever know the difference. Even if Voldemort was suspicious and tried to track her, it would be impossible now that Hermione belonged to Luna.

He stared down at the unconscious muggle with a curious look on his face. He was trying to talk himself into this. This insignificant girl didn't matter. She wasn't even a good person. While they chatted, she admitted to Draco that her parents kicked her out because she became addicted to drugs and she sometimes slept with men for money. Or she stole money from local stores when she was short on cash. Stealthily he brought his wand up. She wouldn't be a loss to society, really.

Damn it all to fucking hell, he couldn't do it. Three months previously he could have done it without batting an eyelash, but that beautiful brave Gryffindor had changed him. Hermione would rather die herself than let anyone die in her place. He knew that. She would never forgive him if he did this, and frankly, he didn't think he would ever forgive himself. This girl had a chance, an opportunity, to live a long full and happy life.

Cursing his own softness, instead of killing her, Draco performed a few simple spells that would clean out her system so she was no longer physically addicted to any substances. He magically planted the idea in her mind that she wanted to make amends with her parents. That she wanted to be a better person and be someone she could be proud of herself for being. As a last minute idea, he left all of the muggle money he had on him, which was quite a large sum, stuffing it into her purse. He undid the transfiguration on her features, and whispered, "_Ennervate."_

The girl blinked her eyes blearily. A man was standing above her with a frown. She blinked again and he was gone.

…..

It was almost dawn. Beams of foggy sunlight could be seen on the far horizon, illuminating the mansion as Draco approached it's tall wrought iron gates. He held himself tall, proud. It was a strut, really, a strut that clearly said he was confident and in control.

On the outside, he was composed, but inside, he was a wreck. His eyes focused on the front doors of his childhood home and they snapped open. Involuntary magic often occurred when he was this emotionally distraught.

"Draco?" His mother was in the foyer, as if she'd been expecting him. He wondered if she slept at all anymore.

"Tell him that I've returned from the task he set me," he commanded.

His mother asked in a panic, "But son, where is the body?"

"Just tell him."

His mother swept from the room. A moment later she appeared, with Lucius and Lord Voldemort. The snake he loved so much was draped around his shoulders, hissing, as if knowing she would be getting a meal very soon. "Ah, Draco," Voldemort greeted him with a smile, but Draco's face remained stone.

"I won't," he said quietly.

"What was that, Draco?" Voldemort thought perhaps he had misheard the boy in front of him.

"I will not kill her and you will never find her."

"Ha, ha-ha," he laughed as if this was a joke as Narcissa and Lucius looked on in horror. "Surely you jest, young Malfoy. I asked you to kill one insignificant mudblood."

"Her blood," said Draco loudly, "is cleaner than yours," and he spat on Voldemort.

The spit landed on his robes and Lord Voldemort gazed down at it for several moments. More Death Eaters were appearing, coming into the room and watching this display.

"No!" Narcissa Malfoy's cry was so panicked it shocked everyone. She rushed toward her son, but her husband grabbed hold of her and held her back as she sobbed. For one moment Draco wondered why she was panicking, and then he remembered that it was probably because he was about to die. Voldemort's head snapped up, his eyes gleaming red. But Draco wasn't scared.

This, he knew, was the only way. If he disappeared with Hermione, Voldemort would kill his parents. But if he came, gave himself up, and took full blame, then Voldemort would, hopefully, kill only him, leaving his parents alone and being unable to Track Hermione.

Lord Voldemort's scream of fury echoed through the cavernous mansion, waking every sleeping inhabitant, and scaring most of them to the point of dropping to their knees. It continued to ring, even as Draco closed his eyes and prepared himself for what was to come.

…..

Harry Potter woke up screaming, but it wasn't his scream. It was a yell of fury that could have only come from Lord Voldemort. Images flashed before his eyes as he tried to concentrate. One minute Ronald Weasley was in front of him, asking if he was alright, and the next, he was in Malfoy Manor.

_Draco Malfoy's bloody and beaten body lay in front of him motionless. It was hit with a few more curses before Voldemort stopped. Torturing the boy wasn't important at the moment and it wasn't like he could feel it anymore anyways._

_ The Dark Lord had more pressing issues to deal with than a disobedient follower. He was on the brink of infiltrating the French Ministry. At that very moment he was waiting for a report from Avery and Mulciber. He toyed with the idea of finishing the boy but decided he had a better idea. It had been so long since one of his followers betrayed or disobeyed him. Draco Malfoy would be an example. _

_ "Bellatrix," he hissed. _

_ "My Lord?" Her voice was emotionless. _

_ "Drag him to the cellar. I shall deal with him more later."_

_ "Yes, my Lord. Please, allow me to express how disgusted I am by his disobedience. He is no nephew of mine any longer, and I am sure my sister would also agree that he is no son of hers." She said this with such devotion that it was obvious she meant every word._

_ "Yet she was not here to witness his punishment," he said smoothly, motioning toward the crowd who had gathered to watch Draco's torture. Every Death Eater in the mansion was crowded in the foyer except for Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy._

_ "It-it was a shock for her, my Lord, I am sure once she is over her shock she will also seek forgiveness and redemption in your eyes." _

_ "We shall see," he said simply. "Where is your husband? I wish to send Rodolphus on an important mission." _

_ "I am here," he spoke up from amongst the crowd._

_ "Good. I need you to ask Lucius where he purchased the filthy mudblood Draco owns. Go there, procure the contract and bring it to me. I wish to track her down and do the job the boy was too cowardly to finish." _

_ "Yes, my Lord," there was noise of rustling cloaks and Rodolphus strode out of the front doors swiftly. Voldemort watched with indifference as Bellatrix flicked her wand to move her nephew's body._

_ "I said," he interrupted her, "to _drag_ the body to the cellar. See how the filthy little blood traitor feels being treated like a mudblood." The body dropped back to the floor. Bellatrix wrapped her hands around his wrists and dragged him out of the room._

With a ragged gasp, Harry Potter was himself again. "What happened, mate?" Ron asked worriedly, his face coming in and out of focus as Harry tried to hold back the vomit that was rising in his throat.

"Get Daphne," he choked the words out, "we're going to Draco's. You-Know-Who has Draco," before he could get out anymore, he turned his head and was violently sick.

…..

**A/N: A lot happened in this chapter. I know Draco's errands seemed a bit rushed but I wanted it to be that way to express to the reader how rushed he felt. He knew he had to get this done before Hermione woke up. What do you all think? Originally, I had planned on Draco actually killing the muggle girl from the bar and taking her body to Voldemort, but I realized that I don't think Draco could do that now. I feel like the Draco Malfoy at the beginning of my story would have done it, but not now. What are your thoughts?**


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